


Until The Clouds Roll By A Little

by GreenOrnaments



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Stenbrough, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Internalized Homophobia, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Nobody dies (except Sonia but she doesn’t count), Pennywise never existed, Slow Burn, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 94,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenOrnaments/pseuds/GreenOrnaments
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier met one fateful summer day as children and kept in touch, documenting their coming of age via letters and phone calls. Now they’re all grown up and reunited, but what happens when that initial friendship tries to bloom into more? And what will it take for them to let it?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 155
Kudos: 147





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is VERY loosely based on the 1988 film ‘Beaches.’ If you’re at all familiar with the film, I’d like to take this moment to assure you that this fic does NOT share the same ending. With that said, enjoy!

**Philadelphia, PA**

**2017**

“For real, though, traveling is so fucking stressful.” Richie Tozier spoke the words casually into the microphone he held in one hand, his voice reverberating loudly throughout the vast, nearly empty auditorium. He walked across the stage, the microphone cord dragging behind him. “A man gets  _ reeeeally _ lonely out on tour, let me tell ya. And I’m the idiot who forgot to pack my Fleshlight. Now, I don’t know if any of you have ever had to make an emergency trip to Wal-Mart at midnight for a bag of peaches and a box of condoms, but I’m here to tell you, it’s not an enjoyable experience.”

The few stagehands sitting in the audience laughed. “I’m Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier, and I..I, uh… fuck,” he said, breaking out of his routine and sinking down onto the stool in the middle of the stage. “Guys, I gotta tell you, I’m not feeling this bit,” he said into the mic. 

“What do you mean?” asked one of his writers from his seat in the front row. “That bit killed in Minneapolis.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it flowed then and I don’t think it does now,” Richie retorted in frustration. “Not as an opener. I don’t know, I just think it could use a punching up. This is fuckin’ Netflix, it’s my one shot. I’m not half-assing this.”

The writer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, ok. We’ll see what we can do, just… finish the rest of the set.”

“Maybe we could tone down this lighting first?” Richie suggested, waving his hand in the direction of the stage lights, which were beaming harshly down on him, nearly blinding him as they reflected off of his glasses. “It’d be nice to be able to actually see two inches in front of me so I don’t fall on my ass in front of eight hundred people and seven cameras.”

“How about we all take a breather and come back in fifteen minutes?” suggested one of the stagehands, tapping her fingernails against the clipboard she held in front of her like a shield. “We’ll adjust the lighting and segue into rehearsing the rest of the set.” 

Everyone readily agreed to this, much to Richie’s relief. If he was being honest, though he really did care about getting every detail of this Netflix special right, at the moment his heart was only half in it at best. It wasn’t exactly easy to concentrate when his thoughts were hundreds of miles away, preoccupied with something that mattered to him far more than anything to do with work. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his dark blue blazer, his fingertips grazing the well-worn photograph he’d kept on him nearly every single time he’d ever performed in his life. The faded paper, perhaps not seeming like much to most people, but meaning the world to him, acted as a sort of totem of encouragement that spurred him into doing the best he possibly could. Most of the time. 

The vibration of his phone in his pants pocket cut through his reverie, as though it were somehow able to read his thoughts. He retrieved it and glanced down at the screen, his stomach dipping at the sight of a wall of text notifications:

**Devon  
** **Today** 2:25 PM

**Devon  
** **Today** 2:27 PM

**Devon  
** **Today** 2:29 PM

**Devon  
** **Today** 2:31 PM

Hurriedly, he unlocked the phone and opened the texts, his eyes roaming over them and carefully taking in every word. His heart leapt into his throat, his body overtaken with uncontrollable trembling as feelings of boundless hope and crippling anxiety battled each other inside of him in a contest over which one was going to dominate. It didn’t much matter, because regardless, he wasn’t planning on spending one more moment in that auditorium that day. Plans and priorities had suddenly, wildly changed direction. 

“Alex,” he called out to his agent as he practically catapulted himself off the stage and into the seating area. “I gotta go, man.”

“The fuck you mean you gotta go?” Alex demanded to know. “We have hours of work ahead of us. This special shoots in five days, you can’t go anywhere until we’ve finished this.”

“I know, I agree, and I’m gonna respectfully tell you that I don’t give a fuck right now,” Richie replied as he gathered his jacket from where it had been haphazardly tossed onto an empty seat earlier that day. “I have a.. a family emergency.”

“But-“

“I. Have. To. Go.” Richie gave each word as much emphasis as he could muster as he turned around and sprinted toward the exit, his feet pounding forcefully onto the ground with each step. He ran out into the parking lot, fishing in his jacket pocket for the keys to his rental car and yanking the door open. He slid into the driver’s seat just as the darkened sky opened up and let loose with a barrage of heavy rain, as though it could read the room and had decided this was the perfect weather to accommodate his mood. Briefly, he considered driving straight to the airport, but the thought of having to spend precious time in frustratingly long lines gave him pause. No, it would be faster just to drive. 

_ Ok _ , he thought, trying to collect himself and calm down as he typed his destination into the car’s navigation system.  _ Six hours. I’ll be there in six hours, just hold on. Be strong. You’ve got this. I’ll be right there with you by the time it’s over.  _

He took his phone back out, shooting out a quick reply to Devon to assure him he was on his way, to sit tight and, for God’s sake, keep him updated. Then he started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, driving as fast as the speed limits allowed until he was on the highway, every mile he put behind him bringing him that much closer to where he needed to be. The anxiety began to overtake the hope in the oppressive silence of the car before very long, and he turned the radio on to distract himself, hoping it would do the trick so that he wouldn’t go completely insane before he reached his destination. 

“Seventies on Seveeeeeeen,” chirped the disgustingly happy Sirius Radio chorus, right before the hauntingly familiar opening notes of Meat Loaf’s “You Took The Words Right Out of My Mouth” filled the enclosed space.  _ Goddammit.  _ Richie felt a few tears slip from his eyes as his mind traveled back nearly three decades. Not to the first time he’d  _ ever _ heard that song, but certainly the most significant. He could still picture every detail as if it were only yesterday. 

_ It was a hot summer night and the beach was burning _

The arcade. 

_ There was fog crawling over the sand  _

The noise. 

_ When I listen to your heart I hear the whole world turning _

The neon lighting. 

_ I see the shooting stars falling through your trembling hands _

The beautiful brown eyes….


	2. Under the Boardwalk, Down By the Sea

**Turquoise Bank,** **Maine**

**1988**

Turquoise Bank wasn’t much, not really. Quite tiny as far as seaside towns went, it was often forgotten in favor of larger, more vibrant tourist destinations in the area. Aside from, of course, the small stretch of beach lining its city limits, the town’s biggest attraction was its main drag, which consisted of not much else but a few souvenir shops, a diner, an ice cream shop, a movie theater with one screen, and a fairly new videogame arcade. Nothing remarkable or special whatsoever. 

To Eddie Kaspbrak, however, it might as well have been his very own little world. So far, most of his summer had consisted of being cooped up with his mother in their small, rented beach house, doing exactly the same kind of boring, monotonous things they’d be doing at home in Derry if they weren’t on vacation. Reading books. Watching television. His mother doing her crossword puzzles and Eddie re-reading his comic books for the thousandth time in between mindlessly building forts with Legos. Only once or twice had they even ventured close to the beach, and that was only in order to get groceries from the small store by the dock. The beach was too dirty, Sonia insisted. He’d get sick if he went in the water or the sand. Why they’d bothered to vacation there at all was a question that plagued Eddie’s mind at least once a day, but he didn’t dare ask it out loud. 

None of that mattered today, though. Today was the last day of their vacation before they were due to head home and, after several hours that morning of asking, begging, bargaining and, as a last resort, plain old whining, Eddie had somehow, by an unspeakable miracle, managed to talk his mother into letting him have a few hours to himself to explore the town he’d been living in for nearly five weeks but had never actually seen. 

“Fine, but absolutely no swimming at the beach,” Sonia had ordered him. “In fact, stay away from the beach altogether. Stick to town, and be back before three.”

“Ok, ok,” Eddie promised. 

“And take your pills with you.”

“Ok.”

“And try not to touch anything, you don’t know how dirty it is.”

“ _Ok_.” Eddie had practically bolted out of the door before his mother could change her mind, which he could very easily see her doing if she had too much time to think it over more carefully. True to his word, he headed directly for the middle of Turquoise Bank’s Main Street, such as it was. His eyes wandered over his options, his mind brimming with excitement over this tiny bit of freedom he’d been suddenly gifted with. Nobody was there to shove him in one direction or another or tell him where to go, for once. The decision was all his. 

_Alright, let’s see. Souvenir shop?... Nah. Who wants a stupid seashell from this place anyway? A movie?... eew, The New Adventures of Pippi Longstocking? No thanks._ His gaze wandered over to the arcade next to the movie theater, its eye popping neon sign beckoning him like a siren’s song. He felt himself smile as he patted the front pocket of his fanny pack, where he could feel the small stash of quarters and dollar bills he’d been saving for a rainy day. 

This would do. 

His decision made, he carefully crossed the street and walked over to the arcade, using the hem of his T-shirt to yank on the door handle before stepping inside. A barrage of sights, sounds and smells assaulted him all at once, only taking him slightly aback until he felt himself grinning just a little at the thought of his mother’s reaction if she could see this place, this dimly lit, distractingly loud building that smelled like stale popcorn and old socks and was probably covered in germs on every surface. 

_Bet she’d wish I went to the beach after all_ , he thought evilly, his mood elevated instantly by this baby sized act of rebellion. He wandered around, trying to find a free game that wasn’t surrounded by other kids, and finally found one in the form of a beaten up _Street Fighter_ console. Standing in front of it, he carefully took some quarters and a moist towelette from his fanny pack. He used the towelette to wipe down the controls before he threw it away and inserted the quarters into the slot on the front of the machine. The game roared to life instantly, and it was at that exact moment that Eddie realized he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. 

_Well, how hard can it be?_ he reasoned with himself as he took hold of the controls and moved then around aimlessly. _You’re just supposed to beat the shit out of your opponent, right? Simple._

As it turned out, it was not, in fact, simple. Eddie quickly found himself failing quite badly at it, and several more quarters were lost to the cause as he valiantly tried to not give up. He had only so much resolve, though, and he had just about made the decision to call it quits on _Street Fighter_ and try to find a _Pac-Man_ machine instead, when a voice suddenly came from behind him. 

“Don’t tell me, you’re new at this, huh?”

Eddie‘s head shot up. He was unsure at first if the words were directed at him, since he could barely hear a thing over the various video game noises around him and the old Meat Loaf song blaring over the arcade’s loudspeakers. “What?” he said, turning around to find a boy standing behind him. 

“I said you must be new at this,” the boy repeated, nodding in the direction of the game console and pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it that obvious?” asked Eddie as he took in the boy’s appearance. He was around his own age, Eddie guessed, tall and skinny, with messy dark hair that was in desperate need of a brushing. His small face was almost entirely consumed by the large glasses that gave his eyes an adorable, almost cartoonish appearance. 

“Kinda, yeah,” replied the boy. “You’re getting absolutely obliterated.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” said Eddie with a roll of his eyes. 

“That’s embarrassing,” the boy said with an amused smile. 

“Hey, give me a break, I don’t play videogames much,” Eddie retorted defensively. “I’d like to see you do better.”

The look of amusement on the boy’s face turned into a mischievous grin. “Step aside, Short Stuff,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his shorts for a couple of quarters, which he inserted into the coin slot before placing his hands on the controls. “Watch and learn.”

Despite every instinct begging him to tell this boy to fuck off, Eddie did watch, fascinated, as the game came back to life and the boy proceeded to absolutely whip the opponent’s ass with deft skill that clearly must have taken a whole lot of practice. 

“Wow,” he said in awe as the boy won and the game made loud sounds of approval. “You really are good at this game.”

“Yeah, I’ve been playing it all summer,” the boy replied as he started another round. “See, the trick is to always be alert and one step ahead of the other guy. Here,” he said, unexpectedly grabbing Eddie by the wrist and firmly placing his hand on the controller. 

“Hey, what the-“

“Just keep your hand there and I’ll show you what to do,” said the boy kindly, eager to share his knowledge. He placed his hand on top of Eddie’s and guided his movements as the avatar on the screen prepared for a new attack. “Ok, now when the other guy starts to come at you, wait for juuuuust the right moment and… NOW,” he exclaimed excitedly, using both their hands to make a sudden jerky movement on the controller and deliver a swift kick to the opponent. 

“There, you did it,” he said, letting go of Eddie’s hand as the game declared them a winner. 

“You did it,” Eddie corrected, turning to face him. 

The boy shrugged. “We did it.” He smiled and stuck his hand out in front of him in invitation. “I’m Richie, by the way. Richie Tozier.”

Eddie cautiously shook the offered hand. “Eddie Kaspbrak,” he introduced himself, letting the handshake linger for a moment before dropping it. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie Kaspbrak,” said Richie. “Even if you’re really bad at videogames.”

“Hey!” Eddie exclaimed indignantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not _bad_ , ok, I just...don’t have a lot of practice, that’s all.”

“I was kidding, but you’re real cute when you’re mad,” said Richie teasingly.

“Is this how you normally make friends?” Eddie muttered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. For sure, he was annoyed with the conversation, but he was also, seemingly, unable to stop engaging with it for some reason. 

“Why?” asked Richie. “Do you _want_ to be my friend?” His voice sounded almost hopeful, but Eddie thought he must have imagined that. 

“I-“ he began, trying to come up with a dignified response, but his sentence was interrupted by the arrival of a second boy, tall and curly-haired, who burst into the arcade and rushed over to them, looking harried. 

“Jesus Christ, Stanley, what happened to you?” asked Richie. “Have you been running away from your problems again?”

“Very funny. I’ve been looking all over for you,” the boy called Stanley replied, unamused. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“It’s only- oh, shit!” exclaimed Richie as he looked down at his watch. 

“Yeah, oh shit,” repeated Stanley. “We’re about to be so late.”

“Late for what?” spoke up Eddie timidly. 

“The talent show down on the beach,” replied Richie. “Stan, this is Eddie, by the way. Eddie, Stan.”

“Hi,” said Eddie with a wave. 

“Hi. It’s really nice to meet you and all, but seriously, we have to go,” said Stan, looking more and more flustered by the moment. 

“Ok, ok,” grumbled Richie, sounding regretful. He looked at Eddie curiously. “Hey, do you wanna come watch?” he asked excitedly. 

“The talent show?” asked Eddie. 

“Yeah!” said Richie eagerly. “It’s sort of a thing they do here at the end of the summer. There’s a show for grown-ups at night, but the kids’ show is in the afternoon. I’m doing magic tricks for my act. Wanna come?”

Eddie considered this. On one hand, he didn’t have a whole lot of time before he was supposed to head back to the house, and a talent show might take a while, not to mention that it was being held on the beach and he had explicitly promised his mom he wouldn’t go there. 

On the other hand, Richie looked like he was really hoping he’d say yes. For some inexplicable reason he couldn’t explain, even to himself, Eddie sort of didn’t want to disappoint him. Plus, he was just plain sick and tired of being cooped up every day, and this might be his last chance for a while to have some fun before he had to go back to Derry, school, and the endless, oppressive monotony that was his life at home. 

_Screw it. What Mommy doesn’t know won’t kill her._

“Ok,” he replied with a shrug. “Why not?”

Richie’s eyes lit up behind his glasses, his face breaking out into a happy grin. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great, that’s settled, now let’s _go_ ,” Stan prodded them as he headed toward the door. Richie scooped up a brown paper shopping bag that Eddie hadn’t even noticed had been leaning against the side of the _Street Fighter_ machine the entire time. He grabbed Eddie’s wrist with his free hand and pulled him out of the arcade like an excited puppy, following Stan down the street toward the beach area.

“It’s gonna be super cool,” Richie said as they walked, his enthusiasm evident in his voice. “Every kid gets ten minutes for their act. I’ve been practicing my tricks for weeks.”

“That’s nice,” said Eddie politely, gently shaking his wrist free from Richie’s grip when the alarm on his watch went off, indicating it was time to take one of his stupid pills. He unzipped his fanny pack without breaking a stride, expertly snapping open his pill organizer and using two fingers to retrieve the small, white tablet, which he downed dry in one gulp. It wasn’t until he started putting the organizer back in his fanny pack that he noticed Richie had stopped talking and was staring at him curiously as they walked. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie assured him, addressing the silently asked question. “I’m not dying or anything, my doctor just told my mom before we left for vacation that I have to take this stuff for a while. I’m not sure what it’s for or what it does.”

“You don’t look sick,” said Richie, his brow furrowed In confusion. 

“I don’t feel sick,” replied Eddie with a shrug. “But I still have to take the pills or my mom will get really pissed at me.”

Richie gave him a concerned look as they finally arrived at the beach and started walking on the sand toward a large, wooden staging area that had been constructed adjacent to a nearby pier. A handful of other kids were already there, taking some last minute time to warm up or put in a tiny bit more practice for whatever their talent was going to be. A dozen rows of folding chairs had been set up in front of the stage, and Richie led Eddie over to an empty one in the middle of the front row. 

“Sit here,” he said. “You’ll get the best view of my act this way.”

Eddie sat, smiling in spite of himself at how excited and eager to show off Richie seemed to be. He had to admit, the other boy’s enthusiasm was kind of infectious.

“Good luck!” he called out as he watched Richie disappear with his shopping bag into the throng of other kids milling around and behind the stage. He sat straight up in his chair and waited as other people began to fill in the remaining seats. At long last, after a few introductory words from a bored looking woman, the talent show began. Most of the acts were… well. To put it delicately, Eddie thought there was probably a reason why the kids’ show was put on in the middle of the afternoon instead of being a nighttime headliner. He clapped politely along with everyone else, but his heart was definitely _not_ in it. 

And then, finally, it was Richie’s turn. Eddie had to stifle a giggle when he saw the boy walk out onto the stage carrying a small, wooden stool along with the shopping bag, wearing a colorful red top hat and a matching cape tied around his shoulders that clashed horribly with his pink Hawaiian shirt. He looked ridiculous, but the confidence with which he carried himself made it adorable all the same. 

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlegerms!” he began, taking a bow after he had set the stool down and the bag on top of it. “You’ve seen some great acts so far, that’s true, but you all had better hold on to your fuc… uh… to your hats, because you’re about to be dazzled by feats of magical skill!” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. Eddie could tell he was nervous, but he soldiered on and reached a hand into the paper bag, retrieving a black, plastic magic wand. 

“For instance,” he continued, waving the wand theatrically in the air. “I bet you think this is just an ordinary wand, right? Well, get a load of this sh...stuff!” He covered the wand with his hand and then let go, his face covered in a triumphant grin before he realized that nothing had actually happened and the wand was still very much just an ordinary wand. 

“Uh...I forgot to say the magic word,” Richie covered, clearing his throat. “Alakazam!” He covered the wand again, and again, nothing happened. Eddie cringed in sympathy as he watched Richie’s cheeks turn pink. 

“Oh, brother,” a girl sitting next to him muttered under her breath. Her friend in the next seat over let out a mean-spirited snort. Eddie turned his head slightly, narrowing his eyes at them suspiciously before turning his attention back onto Richie, who had given up on the wand and was rooting through the bag once again. 

“I was just kidding, folks,” he said cheerfully. “That was a fake-out. My _real_ first trick is the amazing mind reading trick!” He retrieved a tiny deck of cards from the bag and fanned them out. “For this trick, I’ll need a volunteer from the- WHOA!” he shouted in surprise as he tripped over his shoelace and dropped the cards all over the stage, some of them landing at the feet of those sitting in the front row. The pink in his cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked so defeated that Eddie’s heart went out to him immediately.

“Why don’t you look in that bag and see if you left your talent in there?” the girl next to Eddie piped up, causing her friend to burst into giggles. 

“Why don’t you both shut up?” Eddie retorted without thinking, surprising even himself with how angry he sounded. “It’s not his fault that you’re too dumb to get the _joke_ ,” he added pointedly, emphasizing the last word in Richie’s direction and hoping he would get the message. Richie’s eyes widened, his brain clearly processing and absorbing the words, and the red slowly disappeared from his cheeks. He stood up straighter, collected himself, and cleared his throat. 

“Oh _dear_ ,” he said dramatically, throwing one arm over his forehead with over-the-top theatricality. “This is such a _disaster_ , folks!” He reached back into the bag and pulled out a miniature teddy bear wearing a bathing suit, setting it down on the stage floor. “For my next trick, I shall make this teddy bear disappear into thin air!” He waved the plastic wand at it with a flourish, as though he were trying to write a letter in the air. “Abracadabra!” he exclaimed exaggeratedly, kicking the bear under the curtain behind him. “Ta-daaaa! It’s gone!”

Eddie let out a genuine laugh of mixed amusement and relief. The mere sound of it seemed to spur Richie on. His face brightened and he finished the rest of his act in the same manner, intentionally messing up every trick in increasingly dramatic ways to light laughter until his ten minutes were up and most of the audience was clapping courteously. Eddie stood up and clapped as hard as he could, casting a death glare over at the mean girls next to him, who were only barely touching their hands together as they rolled their eyes. 

_Jerks._

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week,” said Richie, taking one more bow before he hurriedly began stuffing all of his props back into the paper bag. He hurried off the stage as if it were on fire, running off in the direction of the pier, and Eddie caught a glimpse of the exact moment the theatrical smile disappeared from his face, replaced with a solemn look of disappointment, before the other boy was completely out of sight. 

_Oh, man_ , he thought sympathetically. _Poor Richie._ He got up from his seat and walked off in the direction Richie had taken, looking all around until he finally located him behind a tacky souvenir T-shirt shop, his knees drawn to his chest and the shopping bag laying on its side beside him. A quick glance at Richie’s face revealed several fresh tears sliding down his cheeks, which Eddie pretended not to notice as he brushed the dirt off the ground with his shoe and carefully sat down next to him. 

“Personally, I thought your act was the best one of the afternoon,” Eddie said brightly, looking away to allow Richie time to sneakily brush his tears away with the back of his hand. 

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that’s not how I planned for it to go,” Richie said glumly. “I practiced so much, I don’t know what happened.”

Eddie shrugged. “Shit happens, man. You managed to salvage it in the end, didn’t you?”

Richie looked over at him with a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks for saving my butt.”

Eddie smiled back at him. “You’re welcome, but you did all the work. I wouldn’t have had the guts to finish the whole thing like you did. That was brave.”

“I bet you’re braver than you think,” replied Richie. 

Eddie shrugged. “Anyway, you shouldn’t give a single shit about those girls in the audience, either. They were being jerks. It’s like they didn’t even pay attention to all the lame acts that came before yours.”

Richie laughed. “God, there were some real treasures there, weren’t there?”

“That boy who played the Star Spangled Banner with his armpit? What even was that?” Eddie said with a snort. 

“Oh shit, I just realized we’re missing Stan’s act,” Richie said suddenly, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. 

“Oh, oops,” replied Eddie with a wince. 

“He’s gonna be pissed at me. Whatever, I’ll make it up to him. He can’t quit speaking to me or anything, we go to the same school,” said Richie with a shrug. He swiped at the corner of his eye one more time to erase the last of his tears and looked over at Eddie. “I guess you’re probably gonna want to go home now, huh?”

Eddie checked his watch and frowned. It was nearly three. He really _should_ have been heading back to the house, but the more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to. He knew he’d catch hell for it that night, but at the moment, spending a bit more time with his new friend seemed vastly more appealing than going home and watching his mother paint her nails while soap operas and game shows blared from the television. 

“Actually, since it’s my last day in town and all, I was thinking about getting some ice cream,” he replied, getting back up on his feet and brushing the dirt off his shorts. “Wanna join me? My treat.”

Richie looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

“No, I’m joking,” said Eddie with an eye roll. “Yes, really.” He smiled and grabbed Richie by the hands, yanking him up from the ground. “Consider it a thank you for making my day interesting.”

“Well…ok!” said Richie, grinning widely. The two boys set off toward town, neither of them saying much, but Eddie was silently very grateful for the company and he had a feeling Richie was, too. 

“And what can I get you two boys?” asked the girl behind the window at the ice cream shop once they’d arrived. 

Eddie turned to Richie. “What flavor do you like?”

Richie shrugged. “I’m not picky. Whatever you’re having.”

“Sprinkles?”

Richie shook his head. “I know it’s weird, but I hate sprinkles.”

Eddie turned back to the cashier. “Two vanilla cones, please. Sprinkles on one, and this weirdo with me just wants his plain,” he said, sliding some money through the opening in the window. 

The girl smiled. “Coming right up!” She put the money away and disappeared into the back, giving Eddie an opportunity to retrieve more moist towelettes from his fanny pack. He handed one to Richie and opened the other one himself. 

“It’s important to wash your hands before you eat food with them,” he said when Richie gave him a quizzical look. “These are the next best thing.”

Richie shrugged. “If you say so,” he said cheerfully, dutifully opening his towelette and running it over his hands. They both threw the trash in a nearby bin just as the girl reappeared with their ice creams, which they took over to one of the plastic tables set up outside of the shop and sat down to eat. 

“So, have you been here all summer?” asked Richie as he bit into his ice cream with his teeth, the sight of which made Eddie’s own teeth ache. 

Eddie nodded as he delicately licked his own cone. “Yep.”

“How come I haven’t seen you around?” Richie asked. “I’ve been here all summer, too. I’m here most summers. Sometimes not for the whole season, but at least a few weeks. My parents and Stan’s parents are super tight friends, so they make it a whole thing that we do together.”

“This is my first time coming here,” replied Eddie. “Someone my mom works with owns a beach house here, so she let us stay in it for cheap. My mom hasn’t really let me do anything, though, so mostly I’ve just been hanging around the house doing nothing.”

“The _whole_ summer?” asked Richie incredulously as Eddie nodded in confirmation. “Wow. I’m sorry. Are you grounded or something?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, that’s just how my mom is. She’s very protective. Everything always has to be safe and clean. I’m surprised she let me out of the house today, but I guess she got tired of listening to me whine.”

Richie laughed before he suddenly got very quiet, staring down into what was left of his ice cream thoughtfully. “This is your last day, huh.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie. “We’re going back home to Derry tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said Richie, his face falling slightly. “I’m in Connecticut. I guess I won’t be seeing you again.”

Eddie frowned. It hadn’t occurred to him until then that this would be the only time he’d get to spend with the friend he’d only just made. “Hey, how about we write letters to each other?” he suggested, the idea popping out at him suddenly and firmly planting itself into his mind. Richie looked over at him, awestruck. 

“Really?” he said, his eyebrows raised, as though the very concept of someone wanting to keep in touch was alien to him. 

“Yeah!” Eddie exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted a pen pal. It will be fun. We can tell each other everything that happens, and maybe we can even call each other sometimes.”

The smile that spread across Richie’s face could have lit up a thousand Christmas trees. “Sure!” he agreed. “I mean, I’m not that great or interesting, but if you really want to…”

“Oh my god, will you shut up?” Eddie admonished him. “You’re plenty interesting. And you’re good at videogames.”

“I am pretty fuckin great at videogames,” Richie agreed without a shred of modesty. His eyes wandered over across the street and he suddenly stood up, polishing off the rest of his cone with a flourish. “Mmm. Finish yours, I have an idea,” he said through a mouthful of ice cream. 

Eddie looked away from the disgusting sight so he could enjoy the last few bites of his treat in peace. “Did your mom happen to teach you how to eat with your mouth closed?” he asked teasingly. 

Richie rolled his eyes. “Whatever, just finish and follow me.” He waited until Eddie had eaten his last bite and then took him by the hand, leading them across the street and down the sidewalk. 

“Where are we going?” asked Eddie curiously. 

“Back to the arcade,” replied Richie. They reached the arcade and he pushed on the door, holding it open for Eddie to walk through before he followed him inside. 

“I’m not sure I have a lot of time for more games,” said Eddie cautiously. “My mom is gonna kill me as it is for being gone so long.”

“It’s fine, we aren’t here for the games,” said Richie. 

“We aren’t?”

“Nope.” Richie bypassed the plethora of game cabinets and led the way over to a giant booth with a cheap fabric curtain separating its entrance from the rest of the arcade. “We’re here for this,” he said, pointing at it and looking at Eddie excitedly. 

“A photo booth?” said Eddie. 

“Yeah,” replied Richie, digging in his pockets for some coins. “We can take pictures together, and then we can split them and write our addresses on the back. That way we won’t lose them. And you won’t forget what I look like.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Eddie, scrambling into the booth and pulling Richie in behind him. “Good idea! And _you_ won’t forget what _I_ look like.”

Richie laughed. “I don’t think I’ll forget what you look like.” They positioned themselves close together as they waited for the flash to go off, Eddie feeling an unexpected warmth in his chest when Richie placed one arm around him. 

“Get ready, Eddie Spaghetti,” said Richie fixing the camera with a cheesy grin. 

“Ready,” said Eddie with an amused shake of his head. 

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

Four photos were taken, each one featuring a different pair of goofy faces save for the last one, which featured the two of them smiling directly at each other instead of at the camera. 

“Can I keep the half with that one?” asked Richie once the photo strip had been delivered into the dispenser on the outside of the booth. 

Eddie smiled. “Sure,” he said, carefully tearing the strip in half so that each of them got two photos. He unzipped his fanny pack and retrieved a ballpoint pen, which he used to neatly inscribe his name, address, and phone number on the back of Richie’s half. “Here,” he said, handing the photos and the pen to him. “Now you give me yours.”

Richie obliged, scratching out his contact information onto the other half in handwriting so messy Eddie could only just make out what it said. “I know my handwriting sucks,” he said apologetically. “You can still read it, right?”

“Barely, but yes,” replied Eddie, tucking the photos into the pocket of his shorts. “There. Now we can keep in t-“

“EDDIE!”

Eddie’s stomach turned to ice as he turned around to see his mother marching toward him, her face flushed with anger. “Oh, fuck, here we go,” he muttered under his breath as Richie looked at him curiously. 

“Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?” Sonia demanded once she’d finally reached them. “I told you to be home by three! You’re _sick_! I was about to call the police!”

Eddie gulped. “I know, Mommy, but I.. I met Richie at the arcade and I guess I lost track of time.”

“Hi, Mrs. K,” Richie piped up, giving Sonia a smile and a wave. She narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. 

“Hi, little boy. I think it’s time you went home where you belong,” she replied crossly, grabbing Eddie by the arm and pulling him toward her as people turned to stare. “Eddie, let’s go. I knew it was a bad idea to let you just roam around.”

Eddie sighed. “Can’t I at least say goodbye first? Please?” He locked eyes with his mother, who still looked angry but softened just a little bit and nodded. 

“You have two minutes,” she said sharply. “I’ll be waiting in the car. And don’t think you’re not still in big trouble, young man.” She huffed out of the arcade, leaving Eddie to face Richie as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“I am so sorry you had to see that,” he apologized. 

“Who was _that_ lovely woman?” Richie quipped. 

“That’s no woman, that’s my mother,” Eddie muttered. “I can guarantee I’m in for a lecture and definitely a lot of yelling tonight. Yay.”

“Glad she’s not _my_ mother,” said Richie. He gave Eddie a sympathetic look and patted him gingerly on the shoulder. “Anyway, it was really nice meeting you. I… I don’t usually make a lot of friends, so today was really fun.”

Eddie smiled at him. “You know what? I had fun, too.” He grabbed the photos out of Richie’s hand and gently placed them in the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt, patting it firmly once he was done. “Do _not_ forget to write to me. Ok?”

“Well, duh, of course I will,” Richie assured him with a soft, beaming smile that stretched from ear to ear. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”


	3. We Are Far Too Young and Clever

_September 5, 1988_

_Dear Eddie (Spaghetti),_

_I bet you thought I would forget to write to you. Joke’s on you, I promised and I have never, even once, broken a promise. Anyway, how are you? Did you start back at school yet? Today was the first day of school for me. It was ok, except I got the worst teacher for math and then me and Stanley got into an argument at lunch over whether or not Batman should technically be considered a superhero (I say he shouldn’t because he doesn’t actually have any powers. Stanley strongly disagrees. Please weigh in on this if you reply, ok?) Other than that, school itself was fine. Hope to hear from you soon!_

_-Richie_

_*_

_September 22, 1988_

_Dear Richie,_

_I didn’t think you would forget! I knew you would write. I started back at school, too. It’s pretty boring, to be honest. The most exciting part of the day is making it in and out of the front entrance before this kid named Henry Bowers sees me. He likes to hang out in front of the school and call me and my friend Bill mean names, and sometimes he pushes us and stuff. We have a new friend this year, though. Her name is Beverly and she’s cool because she doesn’t take any of Bowers’ shit. Me and Bill usually just walk in and out with her now. Anyway, I really miss you! I put the pictures of us from the photo booth in a frame on my desk in my room so I can look at them a lot. I really had a lot of fun that day. You’re probably one of the coolest kids I’ve ever met, even if you are a weirdo who doesn’t like sprinkles on his ice cream (seriously what is wrong with you??). Maybe we can figure out a phone call soon? I don’t know if my mom will let me, we’ll have to see. Write back soon!_

_Sincerely,_

_Eddie_

_PS: Batman is technically a vigilante. I don’t think a superhero has to actually have powers, so I guess you both have a point, but if Stan asks, tell him I said you were right. I have your back._

_*_

_November 1, 1990_

_Dear Eds,_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (I hope this letter and card reaches you before your birthday, anyway. If not, happy belated birthday, Spaghetti). Are you doing anything fun for it? I’ll actually be performing on your birthday. Drama Club’s production of ‘Aesop’s Fables’ is on for that whole week, and I have two parts. I wish you could be here to see it, but I’m going to call you afterwards and tell you all about it. I really do love performing now that I’m starting to not suck at it. I mean, making people laugh is like… how do I explain it? I’m used to people laughing at me, but hearing them laugh because of something I did on purpose just does it for me, you know? What about you? Did you ever end up joining that business club you were telling me about?_

_And now that all the small talk is out of the way, here’s the part where I tell you that I hate that we don’t live in the same town, because Eddie Spaghetti, I could really use someone to hang out with. Stan just discovered girls, so now he spends all his free time trying to get dates and he’s SO fucking boring and never wants to do anything else. Someday we should try to visit each other! Maybe when we’re sixteen and can drive. Anyway, I’ll talk to you on your birthday. Tell your mom Richie says hello and that it’s generally customary to call a guy the day after ;)_

_I’m kidding, I’m kidding._

_Or am I?_

_-Richie_

_*_

_November 23, 1990_

_Dear Richie,_

_First of all, I am NOT going to dignify that joke about my mom with a reply. Get some new material, Trashmouth._

_Secondly, it was so nice actually talking with you again! That was one of my best birthday presents. That probably sounds really weird, but it’s true. I mean, my mom got me a new organizer for all my medications, so next to that, getting to spend time on the phone with you was a fucking treat. Just… please, I’m begging you, chill out with the mom jokes or next time I send a letter, I’m including a handful of glitter._

_I wish I could have seen your play. I bet you were fantastic! Someday, I promise I will come see you perform. Which I guess means you’re just going to have to keep doing it, and you should, if it really makes you that happy. You deserve to be happy. Oh, and as for DECA, I didn’t end up joining this year after all. My mom didn’t like the sound of all the traveling I would have to do for competitions, so she wouldn’t let me sign up. I swear, I know she’s my mom and she’s only doing what she thinks is best for me, but sometimes she suffocates me so much that I wonder if I actually have asthma or if she’s just the real cause of it. You’re not the only one who wishes we lived closer to each other. I would love to actually be able to hang out with you in person! And actually be able to smack you when you make those gross jokes._

_Just kidding._

_OR AM I?_

_Your favorite friend,_

_Eddie (Not Eds, we’ve talked about this!)_

_*_

_June 18, 1992_

_Dear Eduardo Espaguetis,_

_Well, school is out for the summer and we’ve just arrived back in Turquoise Bank. I think this might be the last year we all go together. I’m probably going to be working for the next two summers so I can hightail it the fuck out of my shitty hometown and move to New York after I graduate, and Stan barely wants to be here this year, let alone next. I won’t bore you with more stories of how much I hate my town, but let’s just say it’s a shithole full of assholes, and that I’m living for the day when I can fucking leave._

_I went to the arcade today. I’ve gone there first thing every year since we met, just to remember. It really sucks that you weren’t able to come here to meet us. Your mom really needs to start letting up a little on that short leash she’s got you on. What’s she going to do when you leave for college? I won’t always be around to help her through the lonely nights ;) (I’m kidding, Eds, please don’t actually send glitter again, it took forever to get out of the carpet last time). Anyway, two kids were playing Street Fighter and it reminded me of us, except obviously, you were a lot cuter._

~~_I think about that day a lot, Eds. And about how grateful I am for it because without you I wouldn’t have anyone that I can really talk to about absolutely anyth_ ~~

~~_If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to_ ~~

~~_Just out of curiosity, do you think you could still always be my best friend no matter what? Because this year I’ve finally realized some pretty intense shit about myself and I can’t tell anyone else becau_ ~~

_In other news, I decided to go out with a bang and enter the talent show one more time. This time I’m just doing impressions, no fancy shit. They’re an easy crowd pleaser and I don’t want to leave this place as a lame joke. I’d rather TELL the lame jokes. Really wish you could come see it, but I know your mom is withholding you as punishment to me for leaving before sunrise (OH GOD PLEASE DO NOT SEND GLITTER, I’M SORRY). Write to me soon so I don’t die of boredom out here._

_Love,_

_Richie_

_*_

_July 4, 1992_

_Dear Richie,_

_I’m feeling generous today, so you’ll find that the envelope you just opened is decidedly glitter free. Do NOT test me again. The only reason I’m giving you a pass is because you might be a little shit, but I miss you and I really did want to visit with you this summer. My mom just thought it wasn’t such a good idea because my asthma has been a little worse lately, and she also read something in a magazine about a meningitis outbreak someplace that affected a lot of teens, so now she’s afraid everywhere I go is covered in germs. I mean, I won’t lie, I worry about that too. A lot. But I still want to be able to live my fucking life, you know? I’m surprised she let me get a summer job, but since it’s just stocking shelves at the pharmacy I guess she figures any potential danger is minimal._

_Now, if I may be so bold as to give you a direct order, you’d better knock them dead at that talent show, or else. I know you can do it. Maybe try your actual funny jokes that had me reaching for my inhaler over the phone, and not just endless jokes about your dick? I don’t know, just a thought. ;) Be true to your talent, Richie. I’m not much, I know, but I’m rooting for you. I’ll call you one of these days and maybe you can practice on me, ok? I promise I won’t hold back my criticism._

_Love,_

_Eddie_

_*_

_February 14, 1994_

_Dear Edward Spagetward,_

_Oh dear, look at what day it is! I know this letter won’t reach you until at least next week, but tell your mom Happy Valentines Day from me ;)_

_Well, I don’t know how YOUR senior year is treating you, but I can’t fucking wait for mine to end. I have teachers and my parents still on my ass about going to college even though there is quite literally nothing I would rather do less. I’m serious, I know I’ve told you this before, but I would rather jerk off with a cheese grater than deal with college. At least, not right now. Maybe someday, but not now. Nope, I’m heading straight for the bright lights of the big city in the fall, and nothing is going to fucking stop me. I’ll probably fail as any kind of performer and end up waiting tables at an Olive Garden in Times Square, but at least I’ll have tried and I won’t be HERE anymore._

_By the way, I am loving the senior photo you sent in your last letter. And, let’s be honest here, I’m a little bit jealous. How the fuck do you keep getting cuter with age and I keep getting more awkward? It’s so not fair. I mean, I’m still enclosing my own photo like you asked, but try to keep your laughter to a minimum, please. And call me soon, ok?_

_Love from your weirdest looking friend,_

_Richie_

_*_

_March 2, 1994_

_Dear Richie,_

_First things first. In response to your Valentine joke, fuck you, dude. Fuuuuck youuuu._

_Ok, now that that’s out of the way. I’m sorry your senior year sucks so much. If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with the flu. I probably caught it from the school bathroom. There is not a single surface of that place that isn’t totally fucking disgusting. My mom’s been making me stay home from school for the past two days, which is just as well since that means I don’t have to attend meetings for the Prom Committee. Oh yeah, I joined the fucking Prom Committee. I mainly did it as a favor to Bill since he’s head of the committee and they needed extra help since not a lot of kids signed up, but God it’s so boring. Not to mention committee members pretty much have to actually GO to the prom, and I’d rather not. I do not get the appeal of school dances in general. They’re a huge germ fest, especially that communal bowl of punch. Bev thinks prom is stupid too, so we’re gonna go as each other’s (100% platonic) dates, but neither of us are going to enjoy it. Bill owes us, man._

_I’m sorry, that was a tangent. Anyway, as far as college, if you really don’t want to go, then you shouldn’t. To be honest, I admire you for just going for what you want instead of what everyone else wants you to do. I wanted to apply to colleges out of state, but my mom and my guidance counselor have talked me into going locally so I can stay at home and save money. I mean, it’s not a terrible idea, financially speaking, and I can always transfer to another college with a business program in a couple of years if I want. Maybe even in New York! Wouldn’t that be great, the two of us being lame in the city together? That’s something to reach for, right?_

_Love from your very feverish friend,_

_Eddie_

_PS: SHIT, I forgot to mention, shut the fuck up about how awkward you think your school picture is, assclown! You’re_ ~~_hotter_ _cuter_~~ _better looking than you think you are, and I’m putting that picture on my desk right next to the ones of us at the arcade. You adorable bitch. Oh, and I’m sending a separate card for your birthday, I hope it arrives on time._

_*_

_November 28, 1996_

_Dear Eds,_

_Happy Thanksgiving! I’m writing to you from my brand new (to me, anyway, it’s actually ancient), sparkling (filthy), peaceful (the upstairs neighbors are loudly fucking as we speak) apartment in beautiful (hideous) downtown Bushwick. I don’t have a turkey, but I have the day off and a bottle of vodka, which is objectively better. I can use it, trust me. I’ve just come off three auditions in a row, all for amateur plays as far off Broadway as you can get without actually leaving the state of New York, and not so much as a cursory “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.” It’s fine, though. I may be stuck at Blockbuster for the rest of my life, but at least I have open mic nights at All That Jazz to cut my teeth on. Plus, I’m no longer crashing on my co-worker Ben’s futon, so there’s that. I just got a phone installed so I’m including a headshot with my new number on it. How’s college life treating you? Write back soon, SpaghEds!_

_Love,_

_Richie_

_*_

_December 15, 1996  
_

~~_Dear Richie,_ ~~

~~_I hate my college_ ~~

~~_I hate Derry_ ~~

~~_I can’t stand being under my mom’s thu_ ~~

~~_I daydream daily about just getting in my car and leaving and not looking back because I have no control over my li_ ~~

~~_I’m so restless and I don’t even know wh_ ~~

_*_

**New York, NY**

**January 1997**

“All I’m saying is, ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause’ is a weird fucking Christmas song,” Richie said into the mic, one hand nervously twisting the cord in between his fingers as he crossed back and forth on the small club stage. “Is Santa supposed to be the kid’s dad or is Mommy legitimately giving Santa her milk and cookies?”

The few audience members still scattered throughout the nearly empty club at such a late hour laughed at the joke, giving Richie the confidence to power through the rest of his point. “Like, Jesus, if I’m _not_ supposed to picture Santa Clause with his velvet pants around his ankles plowing this poor kid’s mother, you should really make that more clear.” The audience guffawed. A light from stage left flashed suddenly, indicating that his fifteen minutes were up and it was time to bring his act in for a landing. “Thank you! I’m Trashmouth and I’m here most open mic nights if you’re a glutton for punishment. Have a great night!”

His meager audience clapped as he exited the stage, his heart racing with relief as it always did once he was finished with a performance and no longer had to worry about fucking it up. He loved being on stage, he really did, but most times he wished he didn’t have to actually go through the “doing the actual work” part of the whole thing. Especially since he knew his material was mediocre at best. It got a reaction, it always did, but Richie, far from being an idiot, knew only too well that polite laughter was definitely a thing. Rare in New York, perhaps, but not unheard of. 

He collected his backpack from where he’d stashed it at one of the many empty tables and quietly made his way back toward the exit as everyone clapped for the next person to hit the stage. He gave a goodbye wave to Jimmy the bartender and hastily barged through the door, stepping out onto the street into the chilly night air. It was part of the agreement he had with Jimmy that he could come to Open Mic and do his bit, but he couldn’t stick around afterwards. Not until he was of legal drinking age, anyway. 

_Joke’s on them_ , he thought sarcastically as he reached into his pocket for the tiny, sample sized bottle of whiskey he’d swiped from his boss’ office during his break at work. He downed the entire thing in two gulps, tossing the empty bottle into a nearby bin before he started his journey home. It was his ritual on nights like this, just a small drink to calm his nerves so he wouldn’t be so quick to overthink every tiny flaw of his performance and just focus on how good it felt to be applauded.

One subway ride and a five block walk later, he was in his own neighborhood, the flickering streetlights and the sound of cars on late night errands welcoming him home as he turned the corner toward his building. It wasn’t much, obviously. It was old and rundown, most things inside were either broken or barely functional, and Richie suspected it hadn’t been brought up to code since before television was in color, not to mention that there was usually at least two or three random people sitting in front of it while drinking liquor out of paper bags and shouting obscenities at each other. 

It was affordable and it wasn’t a car or someone’s couch, though, so he loved it all the same. 

He bounded up the front stoop, his key already in his hand, his eyes struggling to see in the dark since, like most things on his block, the street lights were dim almost to the point of uselessness. He reached his key toward the door, cursing under his breath as he suddenly tripped over a large, solid object he hadn’t seen. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Sorry, man,” he apologized as he realized the object was a suitcase that presumably belonged to the person sitting in the corner of the stoop that he hadn’t noticed until just then. “Move your shit, though. It’s dark, you’re gonna fuckin kill someone.”

He turned back to the door, sticking his key in the lock as he saw the suitcase’s owner stand up out of the corner of his eye. 

“Richie Tozier?” the guy said cautiously. His voice sounded vaguely familiar and Richie froze, his ears ringing as he tried to place it. He turned to face the mysterious stranger, squinting at him in the dim light. 

“God, I’ve dreamt about this moment for so long!” the guy said breathlessly, the excitement evident in his voice even though Richie could barely see his face. “I can’t believe we’re actually in the same physical space together!”

Richie’s mind raced as he slowly pieced everything together. That voice… he _did_ recognize it. It was crystal clear and barely anything like how it always sounded over the phone, but there was no mistaking it. He wasn’t _that_ drunk. 

“Eddie?” he whispered. “Eddie Kaspbrak?”

Eddie stepped closer, his face finally becoming more visible in the low light emanating from the street lamp, and Richie got his first real look at him in over eight years. 

“EDDIE!” he yelled joyfully, leaving his key inside the lock as he rushed forward and hugged him, warmth radiating from his head to his toes as Eddie wrapped his arms around him and hugged him back. 

“Hi, Richie,” said Eddie. 

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe it!” Richie exclaimed, breaking from the hug so he could get a good look at him. His friend was, obviously, older and taller (although still somewhat shorter than Richie himself), but everything about his face… the cute nose, the scattering of freckles, the beautiful brown eyes… it was all just as Richie remembered, and yet somehow different. In other words, age looked fucking _great_ on him. 

“What are you doing here??” Richie demanded, giving him another exuberant hug. His eyes landed over Eddie’s shoulder onto the suitcase he had tripped over earlier, and Richie suddenly realized that wasn’t the only one. Several suitcases were stacked on top of each other into a makeshift bench he assumed Eddie had been sitting on as he waited, in addition to a duffel bag and a backpack plopped beside those. “Is...is that luggage all yours?”

Eddie broke away from him and looked at him somewhat guiltily. “I know I should have told you I was coming, but to be fair, I didn’t even know myself until this morning,” he said, his breath showing up as tiny puffs in the frigid air. 

“What the fuck? Are you ok, Eds? Tell me everything,” Richie said breathlessly, full of concern as he caught a glimpse of uncertainty flash over Eddie’s face. 

“I… I don’t know what happened,” Eddie explained nervously. “I just… look, my entire life, my mom has controlled everything about me. What I did, where I went, who my friends were, take this medicine, take that medicine, don’t ask questions, do this, go here, go to this college, Eddie… and I just… dude, I just got so fucking sick of it.” The words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth like an avalanche, working themselves into a rapidfire flurry of thoughts that Richie could tell he’d been bottling up for a while. “I’ve been feeling so suffocated for _years_ , and lately I just could not physically or mentally stand it anymore, and I… I woke up this morning and thought “You know what? Fuck it!” And I left. I just… I packed all of my shit at 3am and I just fucking _left,_ Richie, and you know what? It was the best I’ve ever felt in my life.”

He stopped to take a breath, and Richie could only stare at him in awe. He’d only met Mrs. Kaspbrak once, of course, but even from that brief interaction he could easily tell that her and Eddie’s dynamic was a far cry from what could be considered normal or healthy. He may have given Eddie a lot of joking shit about his mother over the years in his letters and phone calls, but he’d be lying if he said he’d never spent time worrying about him and the litany of illnesses his mother seemed to insist he had, or lost sleep wondering if she was ever going to let up on the reins and finally allow Eddie to come for a visit. 

“You just left?” Richie repeated, still not quite believing this was actually happening. “And you came here?”

Eddie nodded. “I didn’t know where else to go, and I wanted to get as far away as possible, so I just bought a bus ticket and didn’t look back. I was able to get directions once I arrived, and well… here I am, I guess. I tried to call you at a pay phone earlier, but there was no answer, so…”

“I was at work,” said Richie. “And then I was down at All That Jazz. How long have you been waiting here? It’s fucking freezing out.”

“Um, like three hours?” Eddie replied questioningly. “It’s not that long, really. I did start to wonder a little if you were ever coming home, but…”

“Three fucking hours in this weather???” exclaimed Richie, horrified. He removed his own jacket and draped it over Eddie’s woefully inadequate looking hoodie. “Let’s grab all your shit, you’re coming inside right now.” He took hold of two suitcases and the duffel bag and finished unlocking the front door of the building, holding it open with his back for Eddie and the rest of his luggage to enter. 

“Ok, so before you see my apartment, I should warn you, it’s not even remotely pretty,” said Richie as he led Eddie up a flight of stairs and down a darkened hallway toward his place. “It’s a straight up piece of shit, actually, but it’s all mine, and now it’s yours too, if you want.”

“Oh, I appreciate that, Richie, but I’m sure I can find a place of my own,” Eddie protested. “I only need to stay for a night or two.”

“No offense, Eddie, but don’t be an idiot,” Richie retorted as they reached his door and he selected the apartment key from his key ring. “It’s hard as fuck to find a place even in _this_ shithole of a neighborhood, especially if you don’t have a job or anything yet, and besides, if my mom ever found out that you came all the way here and I didn’t invite you to stay, she’d keel over and die.”

“Really?” said Eddie incredulously from behind him. 

“Well, maybe not die, but definitely yell at me about hospitality and shit,” Richie elaborated. “And to be honest, I’m being a little selfish. I could use a roommate.” He turned his key in the lock and pushed the door open, starting to turn the light on but remembering just in time that he _hadn’t_ been expecting company, after all, and there were a few things he knew he’d left out that he _definitely_ didn’t want Eddie to see. 

“WAIT RIGHT HERE,” he exclaimed in a panic, rushing in and shutting the door in Eddie’s face. 

_Shit shit shit shiiiit_

He scrambled around, gathering up the magazines he’d been.. uh.. treating himself to the night before and shoving them haphazardly under his mattress. He took a look around, tossing dirty clothes in the hamper and picking up empty soda cans and candy wrappers, throwing them in the trash before surveying the rest of the tiny apartment. It was still cluttered and messy in general, but at least Eddie wouldn’t be able to see _quite_ what a pigsty it could really be. 

“Sorry,” he said apologetically when he reopened the door to a very confused looking Eddie. “You may enter.”

Eddie cautiously stepped inside and Richie watched him nervously, waiting for the horrified reaction he was sure was coming. 

“See, I told you it was tiny and messy,” he babbled as Eddie just looked around, not saying a word. “This is the kitchen, and the table that also doubles as an ironing board. Or at least it would, if I ever did any ironing. Um. Over in this corner is the couch and the TV, and that door over there is the bathroom. My room is behind the other door. It’s more of a closet than a room, actually, but it’s got my bed in it. And see, here, that empty corner right next to the kitchen table? We could probably fit a bed here for you,” said Richie in a rush, suddenly unsure of how good of an idea this really was, but somehow desperate for Eddie’s approval. “For now I have an inflatable mattress that Stan uses when he visits. Actually, you could just take my bed tonight, if you want, and I can sleep on the couch. Mine has an electric blanket and you’ve been out in the cold all night, and you’re probably exhausted....”

Eddie had remained silent throughout this jumbled speech, but his dark eyes had been carefully taking in every detail of his new surroundings as Richie watched him, his stomach in knots as he waited for his friend to say something, anything, in reply. He was prepared for teasing, terror, or just plain, old fashioned judgement from Eddie once he saw how he lived. What he was _not_ prepared for was for Eddie to sink down onto the couch and start crying, his face disappearing behind both of his hands. 

“E-Eds?” Richie said quietly, suddenly dismayed. He’d never been one to experience immediate intense, visceral reactions to pretty much anything in his entire life. Well, hardly ever, anyway. There were always exceptions. In that moment, he decided that the sight of tears pouring out of Eddie Kaspbrak’s eyes was definitely An Exception. It was sure as fuck a sight he hated with a passion and would do literally anything to get rid of. 

“Come on, Eds, don’t cry,” he pleaded, sitting down beside Eddie on the ratty, old couch and awkwardly patting him on the shoulder. “I know it’s not exactly the Plaza Hotel or the Playboy Mansion, but it’s home to me.”

Eddie sniffed and looked up at him, his chocolate colored eyes shining and his nose red. A tiny smile broke onto his face, the appearance of which flooded Richie with relief. 

“That’s… that’s not why I’m crying,” Eddie explained with a sniff. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, this place is two seconds away from making me break out in hives, and I am absolutely going to help you clean it as soon as possible, but that’s not the reason.” He carefully removed Richie’s jacket from his shoulders and reached into the pocket of his hoodie for a tissue, which he used to dab at his eyes. 

“Ok?...” Richie prodded him. 

Eddie sighed. “It’s just… it just hit me that I’m not at home anymore. I’m not in my house, my mom isn’t here to tell me what to do, I’m not even in Derry, I’m… _here._ I’m free. I’m fucking FREE!” He shouted that last word, causing a muffled “Shut the fuck up!” to come floating through the wall shared with Richie’s neighbor. The two of them looked at each other, breaking into giggles as Eddie blew his nose. 

“So, will you stay?” asked Richie. “Even if my place is a pigsty?”

Eddie smiled and nodded. “Yes, but the first thing I’m doing tomorrow is buying a shit ton of cleaning supplies before either of us contract a staph infection.”

“That’s fair,” said Richie, feeling suddenly happier than he’d felt in a very long time. 


	4. Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You

True to his word, Eddie wasted no time in starting Operation Clean Richie’s Apartment. In fact, the first thing Richie registered when he opened his eyes the next morning was the smell of lemon scented bleach and the blurry sight of Eddie on his knees in the corner of the kitchen area, wearing comically oversized rubber gloves and humming softly under his breath as he attacked the floor with a scrub brush. 

“Eds?” murmured Richie sleepily as he stretched and reached over to the makeshift, milk crate coffee table in front of the couch for his glasses, nearly falling off in the process. He jammed them onto his face and yawned as he sat up and looked around the tiny apartment, which was already a thousand times neater than it had been a few hours ago. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Eddie chirped cheerfully, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes as he glanced over at him.

“What the fuck, how long have you been awake?” Richie asked. “Actually, what time is it?”

“It’s almost noon,” replied Eddie, placing his brush into a plastic bucket by his side. “I woke up at eight because that’s just how my body clock is, and I figured there was no time like the present to start a good cleaning, so I went out and found a nice little store down the street that had supplies. I started with the bathroom. That took me over an hour, by the way. When the hell was the last time you cleaned it?”

“Uuuuh,” Richie mumbled, frowning as he genuinely tried to think of the answer. “I’m not sure. A few weeks ago? Maybe?”

Eddie closed his eyes. “I’m almost afraid to ask this, but the last time you cleaned it, what did you use? I’m asking because before this morning, you had approximately zero cleaning products in there other than a half-full bottle of Windex.”

Richie frowned. “Oh yeah, that blue stuff? I probably used that.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie murmured under his breath as he shivered. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

“What?” asked Richie. “Doesn’t it all do the same thing?”

Eddie gave him a look of pure horror mixed with amazement. “I… I don’t even know what to do with what you just said.”

“Well, it wasn’t like I was expecting my best friend to show up out of the blue, was it?” Richie said, getting up off the couch and crossing over to Eddie, who held out a yellow gloved hand to stop him. 

“No! Don’t walk on the floor!” he exclaimed. “It’s still wet.”

“Sorry, my bad,” Richie apologized, settling for leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. “Anyway, in my defense, I’m pretty sure a lot of the mess in the bathroom was left behind by whoever lived here before me.”

“All the more reason why glass cleaner isn’t going to fucking cut it,” replied Eddie as he gave the floor one last swipe with his brush and rocked back on his heels, admiring his work. “There. Now this floor is clean enough to eat off of.”

“Uh, Eds? We do own a table,” Richie pointed out. “I know it’s small and ugly, but it does, in fact, serve its purpose of preventing a cereal bowl from crashing to the ground.”

“Very funny,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes as he carefully stood up and tiptoed out of the freshly cleaned kitchen and into the living area. “Now, here we need to start dusting...just… everything. Literally everything. There is not one single thing in this room that doesn’t have an inch of dust on it, Jesus Christ. How the fuck do you live like this?” He removed his rubber gloves and reached down into a paper bag on the floor by the television, retrieving a roll of paper towels and a metal spray can with a giant picture of a lemon on the front, both of which he handed to Richie.

“I’m gonna start work on the fridge, you start dusting,” he commanded him, and Richie couldn’t help but smile at how utterly serious he looked about it. 

“Yes, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie replied with a mock salute. “Whatever you say. I live to serve.” He set to work spraying the top of the TV, watching out of the corner of his eye as Eddie carefully walked over to the refrigerator. He was still mentally trying to process the events of the last twelve hours, still not quite daring to believe that this was actually happening, that Eddie fuckin Kaspbrak was really standing there in his kitchen, making a face of absolute disgust at the inside of his fridge that still managed to look adorable as hell. He’d spent so many lonely years reading and re-reading every single card and letter, silently wondering what it would be like to be able to hang out with Eddie in person any time he wanted. Now that the day had come, he was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around it. 

_ Maybe stop staring at him though, you’re gonna creep him out.  _

“Christ, Richie, how are you even alive!?” Eddie exclaimed, cutting through Richie’s thoughts. “Half the contents of this fridge is just beer. There’s things in here that expired six months ago! THIS LETTUCE HAS ACTUAL MOLD.”

“Again, you can thank the previous tenant,” said Richie calmly as he ran a paper towel over the TV. “I’ve only lived here for two months.”

“You’re lucky I came along, I’m not sure how much longer you would have survived living like this,” Eddie muttered, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small inhaler, which he stuck in his mouth and kept there as he rooted through the fridge. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Eds,” Richie protested. “I would have eventually gotten around to cleaning it myself.”

“When? In the year 2000?” said Eddie, removing the inhaler from his mouth and sticking it back in his pocket. “Food safety regulations and expiration dates exist for a reason. If you were a restaurant you would have been shut down immediately.”

“Are you always like this?” Richie asked, only half joking at this point. 

“You mean concerned for the safety of others and myself? Yes,” replied Eddie seriously. “I just don’t want you to die of food poisoning before we’ve even lived together for one day, that’s all.” He wrinkled his nose as he removed a carton full of eggshells from the fridge and dumped it in the garbage can. 

“Aaaw, my little Spaghetti cares about me,” said Richie in a sickly sweet voice, crossing his hands over his chest dramatically. “I’m so touched I might cry.”

“Keep talking like that, see what happens,” mumbled Eddie. 

“Wow, that might be the most adorable threat I’ve ever heard,” quipped Richie, inwardly congratulating himself when a smile began to grudgingly form across Eddie’s face. 

“Shut up,” said Eddie, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the fridge, his cheeks turning slightly red. “Keep dusting.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Richie smiled as he set back to work, thinking for the thousandth time that, had anyone told him yesterday that his entire life was about to be completely taken over by a tiny gremlin man in a faded Bart Simpson T-shirt, he would have thought they were insane. And yet, he thought, he wouldn’t have it any other way. It felt so natural, as though no time had passed at all since they’d first met.

They worked in relative silence for another hour, until every inch of the apartment was as sparkling clean as it was possible to get. The two of them exchanged a high-five as they plopped down onto the sofa at the same time to take in the fruits of their handiwork. 

“That was an ordeal,” said Eddie with a sigh. “But at least now it’s livable. We should draw up a chore chart later and stick to it.”

“What are we, five?” Richie protested. Eddie gave him a sidelong glance full of judgement. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me this place isn’t going to turn back into a pigsty if we don’t make a chart,” he said dryly. Richie opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it, realizing that Eddie was probably right. 

“That’s what I thought,” said Eddie cheerfully, patting Richie affectionately on the knee before he stood back up. “I’m going to take a shower in the new and improved bathroom.”

“And I’m going to order a pizza,” replied Richie. “I’m starving, and I’m sure you are, too.”

“Famished, actually,” Eddie agreed. “The last thing I ate was a Pop-Tart this morning because I was afraid to touch anything in the fridge.”

“We’ll make it a large,” said Richie. “Pepperoni ok?”

“Anything is ok except mushrooms. Fuckin allergies,” said Eddie with a sigh. “I can’t really do dairy either, but most pizza cheese isn’t actually real dairy, so I should be good.”

“Are you sure?” asked Richie, suddenly worried. He’d almost forgotten Eddie’s extensive list of forbidden foods, but now he was full of anxiety over the thought of accidentally killing his friend before the day was even over. “I mean, we can get you something else if-“

“Pizza is fine,” Eddie laughed. “Don’t worry.” He crossed the apartment and grabbed a change of clothes from one of his suitcases before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Richie alone to handle the food situation. He picked up the phone and dialed the pizzeria three blocks away as he heard the sound of the shower turning on. 

“Yes, one large pepperoni, please, he said into the phone when someone had finally picked up the call. “And be careful that none of it even goes  _ near  _ any mushrooms. Please.” He gave the address and hung the phone up, flopping back down onto the couch and turning the TV on. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, so the only thing worth watching was an old rerun of  _ Gilligan’s Island _ . He had just settled comfortably and was laughing at one of Gilligan’s wacky antics when the bathroom door opened and Eddie emerged, clad in a fresh pair of pajama pants but otherwise very much naked from the waist up. 

“Forgot a shirt,” he explained, opening up a suitcase and rooting through it as Richie tried to pick his jaw up off the floor and pretend that he wasn’t even remotely interested in staring, even though the sight of Eddie’s bare torso proved that Richie had been wrong earlier. Time clearly  _ had  _ passed since they first met. Boy, had it. 

_ Jesus H. Goddamn Christ, when the fuck did he get hot? _

_ Wait, stop thinking he’s hot. I mean, he is, but… it’s Eddie. Your best friend. Who you’ve known as an adult for literally less than a day. And you’re in the closet.  _

_ K, I’m not gonna stare. I’m stoppiiiiiing… now.  _

_ Oh my god, please just put on your shirt, Eds.  _

He sat rigidly upright on the couch, focusing his eyes as best he could on the TV screen and not Eddie as his friend selected a plain white T-shirt and a hoodie and slipped both on. 

“You ok?” asked Eddie as he zipped up the hoodie and gave Richie a concerned look. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Yeah, I am, from how stupid this show is,” Richie cracked, rolling his eyes dramatically. “They can make a radio out of a fucking coconut but can’t figure out a way to- I’LL GET IT!” he exclaimed as the sound of a knock on the door interrupted him mid-sentence. He gratefully got up off the couch and ran to answer the door, slipping the money into the delivery guy’s hand and grabbing the pizza like it was a lifeline. 

“Anyone hungry?” he said chipperly, carrying the pizza box over to the couch and setting it down on the crate table. 

“Starving,” replied Eddie as he plopped himself down beside Richie and grabbed a slice from the box. Richie glanced warily down at the remaining slices, trying to do a covert mushroom inspection, and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t see any. He grabbed a slice for himself and settled back against the couch, watching out of the corner of his eye as Eddie delicately ate his pizza in small bites so as not to make a mess. It was in stark contrast to Richie himself, who normally would inhale his food if he could, but he tried his best to focus on not eating like a barbarian, just this once. He didn’t want Eddie to think he was gross. Well, any grosser than he already did. 

“God, this is so good,” said Eddie as he polished off one slice and grabbed another. “Or maybe I’m just really hungry, I don’t know. But it’s nice to be able to enjoy a pizza without having to hear my mom bitching in my ear about how much grease is in it.”

“I don’t know how you did it, dude,” said Richie seriously in between bites. “Living like that for so long, I mean. Your mom sounds like a real piece of work.”

Eddie shrugged. “I know she was just trying to protect me.”

“Still. You deserved better than that,” Richie pointed out. “And just walking out like that? That took fuckin guts. I’m proud of you, Spaghetti. You’re a brave man.”

Eddie swallowed his last bite and looked thoughtfully down at the pizza box, seemingly letting these words absorb into his mind. The next thing Richie knew, his friend was leaning into him, resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping both arms around one of Richie’s. 

“Uuuum,” said Richie, swallowing as his sudden increased heart rate threatened to deafen him.  _ Stay cool, Richard, you dumb asshole.  _ “You ok, Eds?”

Eddie let out a sigh and looked up at him, dark lashes perfectly framing his deep brown eyes as they locked with Richie’s. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his lips forming the tiniest of smiles that would have made Richie gladly give him everything he owned as long as that smile never, ever disappeared. 

*

_ February 8, 1997 _

_ Dear Journal, _

_ Tonight I finally got to see one of Richie’s open mic performances. It was fucking hilarious and I’m so proud of him. I hope that one of these days he lands one of those plays he’s always auditioning for, because I really think he’s going to be a star someday. That’s not even me being biased, it’s the truth.  _

_ In other news, I called my mom again today. She started crying and begging me to come home. I told her I was happy here and that I would come to visit at some point, but I wasn’t going back there to live. She got so mad at me and started yelling about how I’m an ungrateful son, but I just told her I had to go to work and hung up. Richie always says I shouldn’t put up with it when she does this, and I know he’s right, but it’s so hard sometimes.  _

_ * _

_ March 22, 1997 _

_ Dear Journal, _

_ We got a cat!! I mean, it was more like the cat got us, actually. Well, ok, the cat got ME. I came home from work this afternoon and just found him hanging out underneath the stairs to the building. He looked so cold and hungry, I couldn’t just leave him there. I brought him up to the apartment and gave him some tuna, and then he fell asleep on my chest. I had to do a lot of talking to get Richie to agree to keep him, since the building doesn’t technically allow pets, but I don’t think Mittens is gonna cause that much trouble.  _

_ * _

_ April 10, 1997 _

_ Dear Journal, _

_ You may have noticed my handwriting looks worse than normal. That would be because I BROKE MY FUCKING ARM THIS MORNING. I tripped over Mittens and tried to break my fall by grabbing onto the table and it didn’t end well. Thank god Richie was home to bring me to the ER, since I’m still trying to learn how to get around this city and I probably never would have found it. Also I fucking hate hospitals because it reminds me of all the times I had to go as a kid, so having Richie around to crack jokes took my mind off of it. Which is good because breaking an arm FUCKING HURTS, especially when it’s being set. Anyway, Richie insisted on signing my cast. I told him not to write anything dumb and this dickwad goes and writes “I fought a cat and the cat won.” He’s such a shit. He’s my best friend and I’d die for him, but he’s a shit.  _

_ * _

_ May 4, 1997 _

_ Met Richie’s co-worker Ben today. He’s super nice and sweet, I think I’m gonna introduce him to Bev when she and Bill come to visit for New Years.  _

_ * _

_ June 30, 1997 _

_ Richie and I went to the pool with Ben and my co-worker Mike today after I finished signing up for fall classes. I had to literally force Richie to put on sunscreen. He said he’d only do it if I actually went into the pool instead of just lounging around in a chair all day, to which I replied that 75% of public pool water is most likely just other people’s piss and that I was NOT going in there. He still put the sunscreen on after I pretended to pout, though. Pouting always seems to work on him for some reason. Anyway, we got ice cream after and I’d like to take this moment report that Richie is still a fucking weirdo who hates sprinkles.  _

_ * _

_ July 4, 1997 _

_ Turns out we have a really great view of fireworks from our fire escape! Mittens wasn’t crazy about them, obviously. He hid under Richie’s bed the whole night. Anyway, me and Richie had a great time watching them together. I was so fucking tired from work that I ended up falling asleep on his chest for a little while, but I don’t think he minded that much. Also, he makes a really good pillow.  _

_ * _

_ August 26, 1997 _

_ Called my mom today and she somehow managed to guilt me into coming home for Thanksgiving. I told her I could probably only come for a day or so and she got pissy, but I honestly can’t stay longer than that. I have work and I’m sure I’ll have school assignments, plus I feel really bad about leaving Richie alone for the holiday. I mean, he doesn’t seem to mind, but I do. I hate thinking of him spending Thanksgiving by himself, especially since his parents are going on vacation this year. I asked him if he wanted to come with me to my mom’s house and got a very crude joke about my mother in response, so I assume that’s a no. It’s ok, though, we’ll both be here for Christmas.  _

_ * _

_ September 8, 1997 _

_ First day of classes! I decided to just continue with the business program I was already on back in Maine. Careers in insurance pay really well, and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s risk analysis.  _

_ * _

_ October 31, 1997 _

_ Tonight Richie and I had a pumpkin carving party with Ben and Mike while we watched horror movies on TV. This was my first time carving one because my mom never allowed me to do it as a kid. She always said knives were dangerous and I would hurt myself. But yeah, it’s a lot grosser than I imagined. Pumpkin guts look, smell, and feel disgusting. Of course Richie had to tease me and wipe a bit of guts on my nose, and I swear if he wasn’t so adorable in his Ferris Bueller costume, I’d have killed him.  _

_ * _

_ November 30, 1997 _

_ I have never been so happy to see a holiday weekend end in my entire life. I spent the better part of Thanksgiving Day trying to convince my mom that no, I absolutely am NOT coming home to stay no matter how much she cries and begs. And that yes, I’m managing my asthma just fine on my own. In fact, since I’ve left home I’ve barely had any attacks. Only a few times. Like when I broke my arm, and that one time when I couldn’t find Mittens and had to search the neighborhood for him. In Derry, though? Horrible attack the first night there. I don’t know if it’s Derry itself or my mom that triggered it, but it was extremely unpleasant. Anyway, last night the heat in the apartment gave out so I had to share Richie’s bed since he has the electric blanket and it was fucking freezing. I woke up with my head on his chest just like when I fell asleep on him on the Fourth of July. I will NEVER EVER IN A MILLION YEARS tell him this because he’d probably think I’m a weirdo, but he’s super warm and soft and he really is my favorite pillow. Also, for some reason I feel like I slept so much better in his bed than mine. Weird.  _

_ * _

_ December 25, 1997 _

_ Tonight I had to work the closing shift at the movie theater, so Richie came to meet me after I clocked out and we ended up staying for the staff screening of ‘Titanic.’ Of course, I was sitting there crying my eyes out when Jack died and Richie just had to lean in, put his arm around my shoulders, and whisper in my ear, “Ok but she literally DID let go.” Which was so stupid but for some reason I laughed so hard I almost choked on my popcorn and everyone gave us dirty looks. I don’t think Richie will be welcomed at any more staff screenings any time soon.  _

_ * _

**December 31, 1997**

Years later, if anyone were to ask Richie when it happened, when that singular moment was when lightning struck, angels sang, and a giant neon sign was lit above his head, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to pinpoint one specific moment in time where it  _ started _ . Lots of little moments started it, and if he were to sit and list them all, it would take him forever and a day. However, he could sure as hell tell you the exact moment when his brain confirmed to him what his heart had already known for some time, and that moment happened on his and Eddie’s first New Years Eve as roommates. 

It wasn’t a particularly remarkable New Years Eve. As far as New Years Eves in one’s early twenties go, it was probably pretty typical. Eddie had invited Beverly and Bill, his friends from Derry, for a visit. Richie had invited Stan. Mike and Ben rounded out their little group. Everyone was gathered in the living room of Richie and Eddie’s cramped apartment, getting along and having a great time, drinking cheap booze and listening to music while watching the Times Square celebration on TV, the volume on mute, instead of being foolish enough to go into the city themselves. Richie had a feeling Eddie would probably have an asthma attack in a crowd that size, so to be honest, he was privately a little relieved when no one seemed interested in leaving the apartment. 

So far, everyone seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, a few new pairings even budding into existence as the night and the alcohol wore on. Bev and Ben had immediately hit it off, just as Eddie had predicted they would. Interestingly, so had Stan and Bill, which, even though he’d long known Stan wasn’t into  _ just _ girls, Richie thought for sure he must be imagining. Cheap beer was a hell of a drug. 

Everyone in the room was mostly just background noise to him, though, because he was only focused on one thing, and that was the absolute wonder that was the combination of alcohol and Eddie Kaspbrak. In the entire year he’d lived with him, Richie had never seen Eddie drink more than a few occasional sips of wine, but apparently this was the night his friend had decided to let his hair down and go for broke. He still wouldn’t touch the beer everyone else was drinking, complaining that it tasted gross, but he was definitely partaking in more than a few glasses of his favorite wine. 

As it turned out, tipsy Eddie was also a very clingy Eddie. 

“Ric...Ri...Ricky, I can’t feel my faaaace,” Eddie hummed happily as he draped himself across Richie’s lap during a group game of Charades. He grabbed Richie’s hand and brought it up to his own cheek as Ben was standing up in front of the group trying to act out a movie title. “Richie, can you feel my face?” he whispered, using Richie’s hand to slap himself on the cheek. 

Richie laughed, his own beer-induced buzz intensifying at the close contact. “How much wine have you had, Spaghetti?”

“Dunno, but I feel great,” Eddie said with a giggle. He maneuvered himself until his head was resting against Richie’s chest and let out a heavy sigh. “Ugh, can I just use you as a pillow from now on?” he asked, and Richie’s face immediately felt hot. He caught Stan staring at them with an amused smirk, and he retaliated with a pointed look at Bill’s hand resting casually on Stan’s shoulder, causing Stan to narrow his eyes at him in exasperation. 

_ Yeah, like you have room to talk, Stanley.  _

“Guys, it’s almost midnight!” Mike suddenly exclaimed over the music, interrupting the game and directing everyone’s attention to the silent television, where the giant, glittery ball was about to start its descent into the new year. Everyone huddled together to watch as the giant timer in the corner of the screen began counting down the last minute until midnight and a familiar Meat Loaf song began to waft from the stereo speakers. 

“You know, they say if you don’t kiss someone at midnight on N-N-New Years, it’s bad luck for the entire rest of the y-year,” said Bill. 

“I’ve heard that,” said Bev. “I don’t know that I agree with it, but if anyone is volunteering, I could use all the good luck I could get,” she added, raising an eyebrow at Ben, who blushed. 

“That’s a bunch of bullshit, there’s no such thing as luck,” said Mike, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, but why take the chance?” said Stan. “Does it matter  _ who _ you kiss, I wonder?” 

“Hey… hey Richie,” Eddie whispered loudly. “Richie, we should kiss for luck.” Richie nearly died on the spot as he tried to focus on the timer on TV slowly ticking away.

30 seconds…

25 seconds…

20 seconds…

He felt, rather than saw, Eddie scramble gracelessly to his knees on the sofa and turn to face him. 

15 seconds…

“Richieeeee,” Eddie whispered with a snort and a giggle. 

10… 9… 8…

Eddie was scooting closer. Richie’s heart was pounding in his chest so hard he was positive everyone in the room could hear it. 

7… 6…. 

_ I’m trying to speak, but no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to make any sound _ , sang Meat Loaf from the stereo.

5… 4…

Eddie’s face was mere inches from his now. All the air seemed to be disappearing from the room, and Richie couldn’t tell if it was because of Eddie being so close, the beer coursing through his system, or both. 

3… 2… 1…

_ And then you took the words right out of my mouth _

_ Oh, it must have been while you were kissing me  _

The world’s most appropriately timed song lyrics filled the room as the glittery ball on TV finally reached the ground and 1998 was rung in by a warm hand on his cheek and a pair of soft, feathery lips pressed up against his own. In reality, it only lasted for a few seconds, but in Richie’s warped sense of time, it seemed to go on forever. He’d always thought people were just being hyperbolic when they talked about fireworks exploding during a kiss, but holy fuck, they weren’t lying. His hand automatically came up to cover the one Eddie had pressed against his cheek, his fingertips gently grazing the skin, soft as velvet. 

Then it was over as quickly as it began, and Richie was opening his eyes as they met Eddie’s, which were blown almost black as his friend covered his mouth and let out a soft giggle. 

“Ok, now we won’t have bad luck,” he said with a smile, throwing an arm around Richie and resting his head on his shoulder as Richie slowly tried to come back to earth. He barely registered anything that happened in the room for the next several moments as his brain pieced together what had just happened and brought him to a conclusion he’d already known. 

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh, shit.  _


	5. When To Pull You Closer/When To Let You Loose

**2017**

Richie stepped over to the dirty restroom sink, chancing a glance at himself in the equally dirty mirror as he turned the tap on and began washing his hands with lukewarm water. The mirror had absolutely nothing positive to say. He looked as exhausted as he felt, his eyes dull and lifeless after hours of driving and his hair (not to mention his glasses) in disarray from the wind and rain he’d walked through in order to get from his car to the highway rest stop. He honestly couldn’t care less, though. All that mattered was that there was only a couple more hours standing between him and his destination. 

He took his phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it as the restroom door opened in front of him. His eyes scanned his missed messages and alerts, hoping for any bit of an update, but as far as he could see there were only endless texts and missed calls from his manager and… a missed call from Bill? His stomach flipped and his hands shook as he started to dial the number back. 

_ Ring  _

_ Ring _

_ Ring _

No answer.  _ God fucking dammit.  _

“Oh my god, you’re Richie fuckin’ Tozier!” 

The unexpected voice startled him out of his thoughts and he glanced up from his phone to find a man and what Richie presumed to be his young son staring at him, the older man’s mouth agape. 

“Uh,” he started to say, but the guy was aggressively grabbing and shaking his hand before he could get so much as another syllable out. 

“I am such a huge fan!” the guy gushed as his son just yawned out of clear boredom. “I saw you live in Boston two years ago. Laughed my fucking ass off.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Richie, trying to be polite even though every fiber of his being was screaming at him to get out of there and back to his car. 

“Daaaaaad, I’m hungry,” the son complained. “Can we just hurry up and go?”

“In a minute, Brandon,” his father dismissed him, turning back to Richie. “Anyway, yeah, you’re the best, dude. The fucking  _ best _ . My wife hates you, though.”

“That makes two of us,” Richie quipped without thinking. 

“I want spaghetti for dinner,” the kid whined impatiently.

_ Spaghetti _ . 

Richie suddenly felt like he would suffocate if he spent even one more minute in that bathroom. “Look, uh, I hate to be a dick, but I kinda have to g-“

“Can we just get one picture?” the guy persisted eagerly. “It will just take a minute.”

“I really have to-“

“Just one selfie,” the guy demanded. He threw an arm around Richie and held his phone up in the air, snapping a photo of the two of them before Richie could get a word in edgewise. “Ugh, no, that one came out terrible. Let’s try it again.”

“Dude, I really-“

“Just one more.”

Richie’s phone began to ring, the vibration in his hand giving him the final push to stumble away from his creepy fan and out of the bathroom without another word. He accepted the call and held the phone up to his ear, his own rapidfire heartbeat acting as background noise as he braced himself for whatever he was going to hear. 

“Devon!... Hey, how is he???... Oh… Oh, ok…. Ok… Good.  _ Good _ . Listen, Dev, is Bill staying there with you? Or Stan?... Ok. Can you tell Bill to call me back, please? I missed his last call... Thanks. Hey… hey, don’t cry, ok? Don’t… don’t cry. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll be there in a few hours, ok? Feel free to call me again if you want.”

Richie got back into his car and started the engine as his anxiety eased just a little bit with the end of the phone call. He started back onto the highway, his mind flashing images at him like an old movie projector as he drove onward toward the place where everything important to him was waiting for his arrival.

_ I’m on my way, Spaghetti. You’re doing great, keep it up.  _

*

**May 1999**

“Rich, can I come in now?” Eddie whined, calling out for his friend from the hallway in front of the closed apartment door. The two of them had just arrived home from Eddie’s college graduation ceremony, which, in and of itself, had been quite the experience, since Richie had managed to sneak in a bullhorn and use it to loudly whoop and holler as Eddie strolled across the stage. Luckily, he’d only received a stern look or two from some of the university staff, but Eddie had a feeling that there would probably be a couple of new rules implemented for future graduations. 

“Just another minute, Eds,” replied Richie from behind the door. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”

“So is orderliness, but I don’t see that inspiring you to keep up with your end of the chore chart on a regular basis,” Eddie retorted. 

“Oh my god, is this still about the pan from last night? I told you I was letting it soak,” said Richie, and even though he couldn’t see him, Eddie could just picture the eye roll that probably had accompanied that sentence. 

“It soaked all night, you needed to actually fucking clean it this morning,” said Eddie with an exasperated sigh. “The sink is small enough as it is without having to navigate around a big ass pan just to rinse out a glass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was distracted. I’ll clean it tonight,” said Richie impatiently. “Anyway, you ready?”

Eddie immediately forgot about the pan as his curiosity was piqued. Richie had immediately burst into the apartment when they’d arrived back and shut the door in his face before he could follow, ordering him to wait in the hallway while he set about doing… whatever the hell it was he was doing in there. That was ten minutes ago, so Eddie was beyond ready to find out what was behind the secrecy. 

“Yeah, let me in, shithead,” he said with a smile. The knob turned and the door opened, revealing Richie wearing a mischievous smile as he ushered Eddie inside and closed it again. 

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the two chairs at their tiny kitchen table. Eddie sat, absentmindedly folding his graduation gown and setting it down in front of him with the cap neatly placed on top. Richie opened the fridge and pulled out a large box, which he carefully carried over to the table and set down at the empty place. 

“What’s this?” Eddie asked, his heart practically melting at just how fucking proud Richie looked of himself. Richie grinned and opened the box, revealing a giant sugar cookie decorated with red and yellow icing and bearing the words  _ CONGRATULATIONS EDDIE!  _ across the middle. 

“It’s a cookie,” Richie explained, as though that fact wasn’t obvious. “That bakery a few blocks away? Turns out they can make shit for people with dairy allergies, and I know cake isn’t really your thing, right, ‘cause on your birthday you always want ice cream. But you can’t really write “Congratulations” on a bowl of ice cream, so a cookie works better, you know?” He stopped to take a breath, looking at Eddie with excited anticipation. “I asked Ben to pick it up and drop it off for me while we were gone today.”

Eddie looked from Richie to the cookie and back again, feeling an uncontrollable grin spread across his face. “You are entirely too much,” he said happily. “I can’t believe you did that just for me.”

“Are you fuckin kidding me, Eds?” said Richie, shaking his head. “It’s your graduation day that you’ve been working your ass off for, and you think I’m  _ not _ gonna make a big deal about it? Hell no, you’re gonna sit here and listen to how proud I am of you until I’ve run out of words. Which… actually, might not take that long,‘cause I’m really not good with them.”

Eddie snorted. “That’s a bunch of bullshit, Tozier. I’ve seen the evolution of your act, you’re not  _ that _ terrible with words.”

“Which brings me to the second reason I’m feeling so festive today,” Richie added, his face lighting up even further as he pulled out the second chair and sat down beside him. “Remember that audition I went to last month? And how they called me back twice?”

“Yeah,” said Eddie, feeling excited as he watched Richie’s eyes shine with news he was clearly dying to share. “Don’t tell me…”

“Yeah, bitch, guess who’s one of the six main leads?” Richie said glowingly. “This fuckin loser, that’s who.”

“Oh my god!” Eddie shrieked, jumping up from his own chair and throwing his arms around Richie, who hugged him back tightly. “I knew it! I knew you’d eventually land something.”

“Well, it’s not much,” Richie pointed out as they broke from their hug and Eddie sat back down. “It’s just a small off-Broadway play. Way off Broadway. It’s almost a Jersey production.”

Eddie laughed. “But it’s a stepping stone, Richie. Don’t dismiss it. You’ve earned this.”

Richie grinned. “I mean, I  _ have _ been busting my ass for years trying to get my foot in somewhere.”

“Wait, when did you find out about this?” asked Eddie curiously. 

“Last night,” replied Richie. “That’s why I didn’t wash the pan. I was too busy freaking out after they called me.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me last night, dickwad?” Eddie exclaimed. “We could have celebrated!”

Richie shrugged. “You were so nervous about your graduation ceremony. Plus, I didn’t want to make your entire day about myself. Oh! I almost forgot,” he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, wrapped present, which he gently placed on top of Eddie’s folded cap and gown. “This was what I was doing while you were out in the hallway. I forgot to wrap it last night and I didn’t have time this morning.”

Eddie took the gift in his hand, smiling down at the hastily assembled wrapping that was 100% a Richie Tozier special. He carefully removed the newspaper comics that were serving as gift wrap and pulled out a tiny cardboard box, the inside of which contained a keychain in the shape of a bowl of pasta underneath a black letter I and a red heart. 

“Get it?” said Richie cheekily. “I heart Spaghetti?”

Eddie looked back up at him, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through his chest that always seemed to pop up whenever Richie did anything particularly endearing. Which, lately, seemed to be a lot of the time. He couldn’t quite explain why sometimes even the sight of Richie eating cereal straight out of a box or struggling with their handheld vacuum would trigger that cozy, home-like feeling in his heart, but nevertheless, it was there a lot. And right then, with the keychain in his hand and Richie’s eyes sparkling down at him, it was stronger than ever. 

Why, he didn’t know. Maybe it was because Richie was his closest friend in the world. Maybe it was because he associated him with his own liberating adult independence. Or maybe it was because theirs was the closest thing to those ride or die friendships he’d always coveted in the movies he’d watched growing up. He had no idea. 

But he liked it. He really,  _ really  _ liked it. 

“It’s perfect,” Eddie said softly, leaning back in to hug Richie a second time. This one he let linger for a slightly longer time before he placed a kiss to Richie’s cheek and sat back to look at him. He thought he saw a faint trace of red appear on his friend’s cheeks, which did nothing to quell that wonderful chest warmth on Eddie’s end. 

“Now, let’s say we save this cookie for tonight, change our clothes, and go out to celebrate you becoming a big stage star,” he said brightly. “My treat.”

“No, no,” Richie insisted as he stood up from his chair. “I’m treating you, it’s your graduation.”

“Fine, how about you pay for me and I’ll pay for you?”

Richie laughed. “You drive a hard bargain, Spaghetti. But ok.”

Eddie smiled and stood up, pushing his chair in and patting Richie on the cheek. “Thought you’d see it my way. But we’re not going anywhere until you’ve washed that fucking pan.”

Richie groaned dramatically. 

*

_ June 3, 1999 _

_ Dear Journal, _

_ I called my mom last night to thank her for the money she sent me for graduation. She said she was sorry she didn’t come to the ceremony, but she’s been in and out of the hospital. The doctors finally diagnosed all that stomach pain she’s been complaining about. Turns out she has liver cancer, but they think they can treat it. I won’t lie, this was the first time in a long time that I’ve actually felt guilty for leaving home. Guilty and a little scared, I guess. I had an asthma attack after I hung up the phone and had to use my inhaler for the first time in months. Richie found me like that when he came home from his rehearsal, and I was fully expecting him to make some kind of joke, but he didn’t. He just held me and let me cry on him, and then he let me sleep in his bed so I wouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t know what I would do without him.  _

_ * _

_ July 23, 1999 _

_ Tonight it turned out Richie and I both had the night free, so we went to see The Blair Witch Project together. I think he could tell I needed a distraction since I’ve been under so much fucking stress lately, what with my mom and with trying to find a real grownup job. Sometimes it all gets to be too much, you know? Anyway, a movie night with Richie is always a good way to decompress, since that man is not capable of watching anything without turning it into a hilarious joke. If I’m being honest, his commentary was more entertaining than the actual movie. I don’t know why everyone says it’s so goddamn scary, it’s literally just two hours of three idiots wandering around in the woods without doing any proper planning whatsoever. I ranted about it the whole way home and Richie said I should consider a career in script editing.  _

*

**August 1999**

“Alright, everyone, I think we’ve just about covered all the new re-writes, so why don’t we just take a few minutes to go over the blocking changes for scene six and then we can get out of here.”

Richie closed his script and stood up as Dawn, the director of  _ Friends and Traitors _ , finished her speech. His cast mates followed suit, some of them disappearing backstage or into the audience, leaving only those of them who were actually in scene six on the stage. Richie tried to concentrate on what the director was saying, but that became difficult once he realized that Eddie had arrived early for their after-work dinner plans and was sitting patiently in a seat in the front row, smiling up at the stage. He gave a little wave when he caught Richie’s eye, and Richie waved back, his heart skipping a beat at how good Eddie looked in that tight blue T-shirt that was even tighter on him ever since Richie had accidentally fucked up the laundry and dried it for a little too long. 

_ Oh my god, stop checking out his chest, haven't you discussed this with yourself before?  _

“Who’s that?” asked his castmate Linda, looking over in Eddie’s direction and then back at Richie curiously. 

“My friend. Roommate, too,” replied Richie, trying to look casual, like he hadn’t spent every single day since New Years Eve 1997 imagining what it would be like if circumstances were different and he had the balls to just tell Eddie that he-

“He’s cute,” sighed Linda, bringing Richie’s imagination to a screeching halt. “Is he single?”

Richie narrowed his eyes at her, not happy at all with the way this little conversation was going. “Yeaaaah?” he said slowly, unsure how to tactfully answer that question even if it didn’t fill him with disgust. 

“You should introduce me later,” said Linda brightly, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder and casting another, more flirtatious glance over at Eddie, who, to Richie’s amusement, was busy rummaging through his backpack and wasn’t paying even the slightest bit of attention to the stage at the moment. 

_ Yeah, or maybe you could just back the fuck off, LINDA _ , he thought, subconsciously patting the pocket of his shirt to make sure the arcade photo of him and Eddie from the day they met was still there. He’d taken to keeping it on him for every rehearsal and performance for good luck, as a reminder that at least one person had never lost faith in him. 

Dawn finished speaking and they ran through the scene with the new blocking, Richie trying to make this a great performance since he knew Eddie was watching. It seemed to work well enough, judging by how loudly Eddie laughed at some of the funniest bits, although Richie could have lived without him also laughing at some of Linda’s lines. At long last, they were finished and dismissed for the day, and Richie practically flew over to where Eddie sat, a wide grin covering his friend’s beautiful face as he stood up and hugged him. 

“That was amazing, Richie,” said Eddie. 

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah! I can’t wait for this play to open. You’re going to knock everyone dead.”

Richie smiled, warmth spreading over him from head to toe at this glowing review. “Aaaw, thanks, Eds. You hungry?” he asked, hoping they could manage to scurry out of there before he had to deal with-

“Richie! This is your roommate, huh?” exclaimed Linda’s high pitched voice as she bounded over to them with her hair flying behind her.  _ God fucking dammit.  _

“I’m Linda, I’m Richie’s co-star,” she said after a beat of waiting for Richie to introduce them that was only filled with silence. She stuck her hand out to Eddie, who looked curiously at Richie before he carefully gave it a brief shake. 

“I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you,” he said politely. 

“Likewise!” Linda said, pasting a wide, toothy smile on her face. She and Eddie started making small talk, most of which Richie didn’t hear because he was too busy trying not to barf while also struggling to quell the little voice inside his head that was telling him to view Linda as a threat.  _ Is she really, Richie? Is she? Or maybe you just think she is because you know damn well she has more of a chance with Eddie than you ever will, and that’s not something you’re in control of, and that scares the shit out of you, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it, you pathetic shithead? _

“Richie?”

“Huh? What?” mumbled Richie, shaking himself out of his self-pitying reverie. Eddie was looking at him with concern, his brows furrowed the way they always were when he was worried about something. 

“Um, Linda here was just saying how she’d like to hang out sometime, and I said that maybe the three of us could,” Eddie said, turning his head from Richie to Linda with a polite smile. 

“Oh, uh… yeah. Yeah, sounds great,” replied Richie as he cleared his throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “That’d be cool, I guess.”

Judging by the look on Linda’s face, she didn’t seem to agree that this would be cool at all, but she quickly covered it with a smile and whipped an empty gum wrapper out of her pocket, along with the pen from behind her ear she had been using to mark her script earlier. “Right, so anyway, I’m gonna give  _ you _ my number,” she said pointedly to Eddie, scribbling the number on the wrapper and pressing it into Eddie’s hand. “Give me a ring sometime and maybe we can go grab dinner or whatever.” She winked in Eddie’s direction and mercifully fucked off, leaving the two of them alone to ponder what had just happened. 

“Ok, well, that was fucking weird,” said Eddie, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and following Richie out of the stage door. “What was that all about?”

“You realize she wants to jump your dick, right?” said Richie, cutting right to the chase as they stepped out onto the street. He carefully watched Eddie out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his reaction. Eddie stopped in his tracks, standing stock still in the middle of the sidewalk as irritated commuters pushed around him. 

“.... _ WHAT??? _ ”

Richie let out a weak snort. “Bitch, why do you think she practically shoved her number in your hand? It’s because she wants you to shove something else into her-“

“Oh my god, please don’t finish that sentence,” Eddie groaned, resuming his walking as he held one hand out in front of Richie’s face. His cheeks were flushing a brilliant scarlet color, which Richie didn’t know whether to take as a good or bad sign. 

“Anyway, yeah, she clearly wants to go on a date with you. Haven’t you ever been on a date before, Eds?” 

“No!” Eddie exclaimed, his cheeks going from scarlet to a deep crimson. “I mean, just with Beverly, to the prom. But that doesn’t even count, she was just my friend. I’ve never been on an  _ actual _ date.”

_ That makes two of us, I guess _ , thought Richie as he wistfully filed this information away in his brain where he kept everything else he knew about Eddie. 

“Well? Are you going to call her?” Richie pressed carefully, not wanting to seem pushy but also unable to help himself because his pressing anxiety simply wouldn’t allow him to leave the issue alone. 

“Oh… I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to seem rude or anything, but I don’t know,” replied Eddie, an answer which didn’t exactly fill Richie with dread, but certainly didn’t comfort him, either. 

*

_ August 17, 1999 _

_ I talked to my mom again today. Apparently her cancer is at a much later stage than the doctors originally thought. I honestly don’t know how to feel right now. I feel a lot of things. Sadness. Guilt. Sentimental, kind of. Mostly, though, I feel selfish. There’s a real possibility I could be an orphan by next year, and I know that it’s such a weird thing to think about at a time like this, but it’s what pops up in my mind more often than not. That’s the definition of selfish, I know, but once my mom is gone, I’ll be alone except for Richie. I would never tell him that ever, though, because that’s a lot of pressure to put on him. Or anyone, really. Although, I don’t think he would even mind. Thinking about all of this brought on another asthma attack, and he was right there to hug me through it like he always does. He’s sleeping with his head in my lap as I write this, and god, I’ve never felt as grateful for anything in my entire life as I am for his friendship.  _

_ * _

_ August 27, 1999 _

_ Ugh, so you know how Richie’s co-star Linda wanted to go out or whatever? I got so distracted with everything going on with my mom that I never got around to actually calling Linda, which I guess was kind of a dick move, but anyway, SHE called ME tonight (I guess she found out Richie’s number from the cast database and figured we have the same number) and basically told me we were going out to dinner tomorrow, so… I guess we’re going out to dinner tomorrow. I tried to suggest a group dinner with Richie and she, uh… she didn’t seem to like that idea. Fuck. To be honest, I’m not super excited about it, but I feel like it would be rude not to go after that whole conversation, so I’m going. What the fuck are you even supposed to do on a date, anyway? I’m legitimately asking, I have no idea. And I am NOT asking Richie. I don’t think he likes Linda that much, so any advice I get from him is probably just going to be jokes. Ugh. Save me.  _

_ Oh well, if nothing else, it will be a little distraction. Which I could really use. My mom wants me to come home for a while to help take care of her now that she’s so sick, and I have no idea what I should do. I know she’s going through something horrific right now, and that I should be a good son and be there for her. I WANT to be there for her. But at the same time, I have a life here that I don’t think I can just leave for God knows how long. I don’t even want to mention this to Richie, but I’m going to have to eventually.  _

_ Not now, though. Not until I’ve thought about it.  _

_ Fuck.  _

*

Richie lay sprawled across the sofa, absentmindedly flipping through channels with the remote and trying his best not to watch the clock, even though he was mentally counting the passing seconds without having to look. Eddie had left to go on his stupid date with stupid Linda four... no… almost five... hours ago, which meant that they probably arrived at whatever restaurant they were going to… let’s see… three and a half hours ago? If it takes an hour or so to eat, then that left... a whole lot of fucking time that Richie didn’t want to think about. 

_ Ugh, listen to yourself. You’re acting like a fuckin jackass right now, you know that, right? A certified idiot. It’s none of your business what Eddie is doing right now, so stop obsessing and just watch the fucking TV. Stop thinking about Linda trying to hold his hand or getting too close to him on the subway or just… touching him in general. Stop thinking about it.  _

“Meow?” piped up Mittens, as though he had heard Richie’s thoughts and was trying to add his two cents. 

“You’re right, little dude,” said Richie with a sigh as he leaned down and picked up the cat, snuggling him close to his chest and pressing a kiss down onto the soft fur of his head. “It’s not Eddie’s problem that I’m in love with him, is it?” He settled back against the couch cushions and tried to focus on the infomercial for a device that promised to produce a perfect French braid. Mittens clearly had had enough and immediately struggled his way out of Richie’s arms, which was just as well. If he was gonna spend the night feeling sorry for himself, he might as well do it alone. 

“A PERFECT BRAID, EVERY TIME!” exclaimed the announcer on TV. 

“Rad,” said Richie to no one in particular. He raised the remote, about to do another round of channel surfing, when he heard the sound of a key in the lock and the door opening. He quickly turned the TV off and flopped onto his back, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep as Eddie entered the apartment and closed the door behind himself. 

“Heeeey, Mittens,” he heard Eddie croon quietly. “Did you have a good night with Richie? Did ya?” His footsteps entered the living area and stopped in front of the couch as Richie tried to make his breathing as deep and convincing as possible. “Well, Mittens, I was gonna sit here and tell Richie all about  _ my _ night, but I guess since he’s trying to make me think he’s asleep I’ll just go to bed and-“

Richie opened his eyes, finding a pair of amused brown ones and a pair of judgemental feline ones staring down at him. 

“What do you know, he awakens!” said Eddie sarcastically, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Were you waiting up for me?”

“No,” grumbled Richie defensively. 

“Really? Cause you have your glasses on, and the TV was on while I was walking to the door and now, suddenly, it’s not,” Eddie pointed out. “Plus, if you think I can’t tell when you’re faking by now, I have some very bad news for you. If you’re ever gonna win an Oscar it won’t be for your ability to sleep convincingly.”

“Wow, ok, bitch, I’m literally just laying here,” said Richie, sitting up so Eddie and Mittens could flop down beside him on the couch. “Retract the claws. Both of you. And I wasn’t waiting up for you.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Ok, fine, maybe I just wanted to make sure you got home in one piece, is that a crime?” asked Richie. Eddie’s smile grew into a huge grin. 

“I knew it. I fucking knew it!”

“Shut up,” Richie groaned. “Anyway, how did your dumb date with Little Miss Helium Voice go?” he asked, dreading the answer but wanting to know regardless. 

“First of all, it’s a little much to even call it a date,” said Eddie, stroking Mittens on the head thoughtfully as he spoke. “I mean, I know that’s what she wanted it to be, but I’m not calling it that.”

Richie sat up straighter, suddenly full of interest. “You’re not?”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Linda is really nice. We spent a lot of time tonight just talking. She’s forward and makes me a little nervous, but she’s nice. She’d make a really great friend to hang out with  _ sometimes _ . But it’s not going any further than that. I’m just not into her like… you know. That.” He punctuated that last word with a shrug as Richie felt relief fill him to his core. 

“Good,” he whispered before he could stop himself. “I mean not… not good.. I mean… well yeah, good, cause I could tell you weren’t into it anyway and.. uh…”

Eddie snorted. “What’s the matter, Rich, were you jealous ‘cause  _ you _ wanted a chance with Linda?”

Richie crossed his arms indignantly. “First of all, how dare you, sir.”

Eddie’s face softened. “I’m kidding, you dipshit. I’m aware you couldn’t ever have a crush on Linda.”

Something about the way he said that piqued Richie’s curiosity. “What?” he said questioningly. “How do you know that? Maybe I’m desperately in love with her and have been planning our wedding in which you’re going to be the best man and wear an ill-fitting purple pimp suit because I said so.”

“That’s hilarious, but you know that’s not true,” said Eddie. 

“Do I?”

“Well, you know. I know you’re… that you don’t…” Eddie looked suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said-“

“No, what?” Richie pressed him, his heart trying to leap into his throat as he waited for Eddie’s answer. “You know what?”

“That… that you’re gay,” Eddie said, his cheeks flushing as he finally uttered the word. Richie felt his stomach drop to his knees, but he tried to keep himself calm, clearing his throat and focusing his eyes on the coffee table instead of Eddie. 

“How long have you known?” he asked, not even bothering to try denying it. His first instinct would naturally have been to say something like “Yeah, Eds, the only woman I could possibly love is your mom,” but given recent events, he knew that would be the worst thing he could say. Truthfully, as unexpected as this conversation was, it was also sort of a relief. The only other person in his life who knew about him, to his knowledge, was Stan, and that was only because Stan himself had come out to Richie first during their senior year of high school. Eddie knowing wasn’t even close to being the same thing. 

Eddie let out an awkward laugh. “Well… honestly? For a while now. Like, a year? You, uh… you aren’t always exactly careful when you hide your magazines.”

“Oh,” said Richie, letting out a breath he’d been subconsciously holding. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think you were ready to talk about it,” said Eddie with a shrug. “I probably shouldn’t have brought it up now, I’m sorry.”

“No… no, I’m glad you did, actually,” said Richie, finally daring to look over at Eddie, whose face was half hidden behind the cat in his arms. “I just… you’ve known this entire time?”

“Yes.”

“And it didn’t make you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” said Eddie, putting the cat down and furrowing his brows in confusion. “Why would it?” He scooted closer so he could wrap both arms around Richie’s own arm and rest his head on his shoulder. 

“Anyway, don’t worry, I haven’t replaced you with Linda. You’re still my number one pain in the ass that I love the most.” 

Richie laughed and used his free hand to reach over and playfully ruffle Eddie’s hair. “I’m glad you’re home, Spaghetti. Hey, um… Eds? Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?”

Richie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, unsure that he even wanted to ask what he was about to ask, but feeling like this was the only opportunity he’d get to do it. “Do you remember our first New Years here together?”

Eddie looked up at him. “When we invited all our friends over? Yeah. I mean, kind of? I know I got super drunk that night, so to be honest, it’s kind of hazy. Why?”

Richie looked straight ahead toward the TV, not sure whether he was relieved or saddened by Eddie’s answer. Both. He was both. 

“No reason.”

*

_ September 24, 1999 _

_ Well, after talking a lot with my mom these past few weeks, I guess it’s finally been decided that I’m going to go back to Derry for a while. Honestly, it’s the right thing to do, and if I didn’t do it, I know I would be eaten alive by guilt forever. So, yes, I’m going back there to take care of her. I mean, she does have a nurse named Myra who comes in a few times a week to check up on her that she likes a lot, but obviously she’s alone for the rest of the time and wants me there with her. I know I SHOULD be there with her.  _

_ I have to tell you, I am in no way ready for any of this. Or for telling Richie. Realistically, it will only be for a little while, but I obviously don’t know how long. And regardless, I’ll be leaving him all alone. If I’m going to be completely honest here, that sort of kills me more than the thought of losing my mom. Like… losing my mom will be horrible, but being without Richie somehow seems worse. Is that weird? That’s fucking weird, right? Ugh, my feelings are all over the fucking place. I hate everything about this.  _

_ * _

_ September 26, 1999 _

_ I told Richie tonight. I didn’t plan on it, but it just sort of came out while we were sitting on the couch with a pizza between us. Richie didn’t really say much, just that of course I should do whatever I think is best and that he’ll miss me. But then he hugged me after, and it was so tight and for so long that I just… I fucking hate this. I HATE IT. I told him I wouldn’t leave until after his play opens in a few weeks because I’m NOT going to miss that. I wish there was some way I could just take him with me, but I know that’s not possible. I’m going to miss him so much.  _

_ Can I just, like… hide in a cave somewhere and escape from having to be an adult? Please? _

*

**October 1999**

The sound of thunderous applause rang in Richie’s ears as he joined hands with his castmates to take one final bow, the clapping and shouts of appreciation continuing to erupt from the audience long after the curtain had closed. Pure adrenaline coursed through his veins, every inch of his body thrumming with a mixture of elation and relief. Performing always did that to him, but this was obviously a much bigger deal, since his very future could be riding on how well he did. 

_ First night of many, but thank Christ it’s over.  _

Backstage of the small theater once he’d changed his clothes was absolute chaos, a mass of cast members congratulating each other and trying to find their family members as they all kept bumping into each other. Richie scanned the crowd eagerly, looking for the only face in the crowd of dozens that he gave a single fuck about finding. 

“RICHIE!”

_ Ah, there he is.  _

“You were fantastic!” Eddie exclaimed happily, rushing forward to wrap him in a tight hug. “Hey, it’s my turn to give you a congratulations present,” he quickly added, reaching into his pocket and handing Richie a small box that was perfectly wrapped in shiny blue paper with a matching bow. Richie opened it carefully, smiling down at the keychain inside that was shaped like a gold star. 

“In the tradition of congratulatory keychains, I want this one to remind you who’s going to set the world on fire someday,” said Eddie with a cheesy grin. 

“Political unrest?” asked Richie. 

“You, you dumbfuck,” retorted Eddie, pulling him back into a hug. “I’m serious, I hope you know how talented you are.”

“Aw, Eds, you’re just saying that,” said Richie, unable to stop his face from flushing at the compliment as he slipped the boxed keychain into his hoodie pocket. 

“No, really, I mean it,” Eddie insisted, breaking from the hug to look at him earnestly. “I haven’t laughed that hard in forever. If this play isn’t a huge hit I’m going to be very surprised. I can’t believe your parents aren’t here to witness this!”

“They’re coming next month, Eds, remember?” Richie pointed out. “They’ll see it during Thanksgiving weekend.”

“Oh, right,” said Eddie. “Ugh, I wish I was going to be here then.”

Richie’s good mood suddenly deflated like a popped balloon. “Yeah,” he murmured. He’d been trying to forget for weeks that a huge chunk of his world was getting closer to falling apart with each passing day, but something always brought it back to the surface to remind him of the metaphorical ticking clock. He suddenly felt nauseous, but he did his best to repress it. 

“Hey, Rich, come here for a sec,” came Dawn the director’s voice from behind him. “My cousins want to take a few pictures with their favorite cast members.”

“Then what do they want me for?” asked Richie, smiling sarcastically as Eddie snorted and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Go meet your fans, you asshole,” he admonished him. 

“Ok, ok. I’ll be right back,” he said to Eddie, following Dawn over to where two young women stood waiting with a Polaroid camera. He posed politely between them as Dawn snapped photo after photo, his eyes drawn over to where Eddie had been found by Linda, who was clearly talking his ear off while he listened with a smile. 

“One more,” said Dawn, and Richie only half heard her. He watched as Eddie let out a loud laugh at whatever Linda has just said, and his heart began to hurt. Not because of Eddie talking to Linda specifically, but because he felt like this was just a preview of what life was going to be like from now on once Eddie left to go back to Derry. Richie would no longer be an actual part of his life, he would only be able to watch from the sidelines through letters and phone calls, just like it had been before. Only now he knew what he would be missing. 

_ It’s not forever. He said it’s not forever.  _

_ He really HAS to go. You don’t like her but she’s still his mother.  _

_ He needs you to be supportive, not all sad and dramatic.  _

_ It’s your opening night, why are you like this? _

The nausea came back, stronger than ever. He felt suffocated, as though the walls would close in around him if he didn’t get out right that second. He briefly registered Eddie giving him a look full of concern as he hurriedly pushed past the crowd and exited through the back door, making it outside just in time to empty his stomach into a nearby trash can. He rubbed a hand over his face and started walking with no destination in mind, just hoping that being out in the nighttime air would help to clear his head. 

He thought he heard Eddie calling out for him once he was too far away to be seen from the theater door, but he didn’t look back. 

He wandered the streets for a while, eventually settling himself on a bench in a nearby park where he sat for hours, just letting his mind clear. He wondered for the thousandth time what would happen if he just bit the bullet and told Eddie how he felt about him. Ideally, Eddie would tell him he felt the same way. Sometimes, Richie could even convince himself that was true from the way Eddie acted around him, but at the end of the day, he knew that was most likely wishful thinking on his part. Realistically, if he told Eddie, he would probably get a very nice, gentle talk about Eddie loving him back as a friend and nothing else. 

Just like every other time, he brought himself back to earth by reminding himself that it was better to keep his mouth shut and wonder forever than to open it and get the full brunt of the pain. 

After a while, he realized he was freezing and should probably be getting back home. He wasn’t sure if Eddie would be back by then and wondering where the hell he was, but he doubted it. Linda had probably roped him into going out for McDonalds or some shit. 

As it turned out, he was wrong. Very wrong. 

“Where the.. where the fuck..” Eddie struggled to say from his seat at the kitchen table as soon as Richie had walked through the apartment door. He reached with shaky hands across the table for his inhaler, which he shook and took a few puffs from before he fixed Richie with a glare that could freeze a desert. 

“Where the  _ fuck  _ have you been???” Eddie exclaimed in between wheezy breaths that instantly made Richie feel guilty. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

“I’m sorry, Eds, I just… I felt sick so I just went for a walk to clear my head and I lost track of-“

“You should have told me, I would have gone with you!” Eddie said angrily. “You just disappeared!”

“You were talking to Linda, I didn’t want to interrupt whatever witty banter she was gracing you with,” muttered Richie. 

“Oh my god, what is your problem with Linda? She’s an acquaintance, Richie, she’s  _ barely _ my friend.  _ You’re  _ my friend. My friend who looked very upset and then suddenly disappeared all night.”

“You’re pissed because I took a walk by myself?”

“NO, Richie, I’m pissed because I was worried half to death!” Eddie replied, standing up from his chair for emphasis. “You looked all pale like you were going to throw up, and then I couldn’t find you! Do you know how many horrible scenarios went through my head? Like that you fainted or fell somewhere and were hurt?”

“You were  _ that  _ worried?” Richie asked, genuinely baffled. He’d been so bogged down in his own inner drama, it hadn’t even occurred to him what his sudden exit might have looked like from Eddie’s point of view. 

“YES,” sighed Eddie, crossing over to him and wrapping him in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for yelling at you,” he said softly, rubbing gentle circles into Richie’s back. “I don’t want to fight, I was just worried. I just… can’t lose anyone else. Especially not you.”

Richie settled into the hug, locking eyes with Mittens, who looked at the two of them like he was judging them for being so dramatic.  _ Fuck off, Furball. You’re gonna be stuck with just me soon enough.  _

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he whispered into Eddie’s ear. “I really didn’t mean to, I just needed some air. That’s all. Tonight was kind of a lot.”

“I know,” said Eddie. “You did so great up there. Really. I’m so proud of you.”

“You want me to sign your program?” quipped Richie. Eddie laughed, giving him a small peck on the cheek before tightening the hug. 

“Yeah. I’ll tell everyone in Derry that I know a future movie star.”

Richie snorted. “Lying is a sin, Eds.” He let Eddie hold him, opening his mouth but letting the words die on his lips before he could allow himself to say them. 

_ I love you, don’t go.  _


	6. Hold Me So You Can’t Let Go

January 3, 2000

Art and Culture

**SLEEPER HIT** **_FRIENDS AND TRAITORS_ ** **PREPARES FOR MOVE TO BROADWAY- OUR EXCLUSIVE SCOOP**

*****

_ January 29, 2000 _

_ Dear Eds, _

_ How is life treating you up in Dullsville? I know our phone calls have been too fucking short these past few months. Trust me, I know, and I hate it. I’m just always so busy with work, and now that we’re moving to Broadway everyone wants us to do interviews with this person and that person. Not to mention we’re constantly reworking scenes in prep for the move because rumor has it some bigwig talent scout is going to be seeing it within the first week. So, I barely have time to breathe. Which I guess is just as well, since when I do have free time all I can think about is how much I miss you. The apartment feels so fucking empty without you. And I don’t think Mittens appreciates having only me around. That little bastard doesn’t like me and he wants to make sure I know it. You’ve got to hurry home before he ends up killing me in my sleep. I can literally see him plotting, it’s terrifying.  _

_ Anyway, write back to me soon, Spaghetti. Or even better, email me. My parents gave me a computer as a present when they came to visit. My email address is Trashmouth69@aol.com. Stop shaking your head at me. And tell your mom… you know what, I’m not going to make a joke. Just tell her hi.  _

_ Love, _

_ Richie  _

_ * _

_ 02-08-00 _

_ From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com  _

_ To: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ Dear Richie, _

_ First of all, that email address is exactly what I’d expect from you, but I sure as fuck hope you have a more professional sounding one for work related emails. Speaking of which, I read that article about your move to Broadway!!! I actually screamed out loud in the pharmacy when I read it in the magazine waiting for my mom’s prescriptions. I bought a copy and I’m saving it for you to sign when I see you again before you forget all about me, because you, Ricardo, are going to be a HUGE star someday.  _

_ In other news, I finally found a job! It’s nothing fancy, it’s just an entry level position in the risk management department at a local insurance company, but at least it actually uses my degree. And the hours aren’t too crazy, so I’m still able to be around for my mom in the evenings. She’s not doing that well, but she’s not declining, either. It’s so weird because I feel like our roles have been reversed. I’m now the adult and she’s the kid. Thank god she has her nurse who comes in a few times a week, because most of the time I feel like I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. Myra makes it seem manageable and she’s actually pretty cool sometimes. We talk and hang out a lot when she’s here, and my mom loves her.  _

_ Ok, so, now that we can email each other, you’d better write back SOON. I want to hear all about how the play is going and what happens with that talent scout. Tell Mittens I don’t know when I’ll be back, but that I miss my boys. I really do, Richie. Life just isn’t the same or as fun without you, you know. I can’t wait to see both of you.  _

_ Love, _

_ Eddie  _

_ * _

July 10, 2000

Art and Culture 

**‘** **_FRIENDS AND TRAITORS_ ** **’ STAR RICHIE TOZIER IN TALKS FOR NEW SITCOM-REPORT**

*

_ 07-11-00 _

_ From: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ Dear Eduardo, _

_ Well, guess which absolute dumbass somehow managed to get himself a real live role on the talking picture box? Yeah, I’m just as surprised as you are. I’ve pretty much been convinced someone was fucking with me ever since that Warner Bros scout came to see the play, but I guess since they’ve flown out to see me twice and I’m signing the contract next week, it’s not actually a practical joke. I even asked my agent if he was SURE they didn’t have me confused with someone, anyone, else. But nope. This is it, Spaghetti. This is my big break. Pray I don’t fuck it up.  _

_ Of course, the one downside to this is that I have to leave New York in the fall to start filming the pilot. Not that I’m not excited as fuck to live in LA, it’s just that I’m obviously gonna have to give up our apartment. I know you weren’t coming home any time soon anyway, but still. This apartment was where we started adult life together, and it’s an absolute garbage piece of shit but I’m going to miss it. Isn’t that fucking weird? And more bad news, Eds, I can’t take Mittens with me. I’m not going to be around much, even less than I am now, so he would be all by himself for most of the time. Don’t worry, though, Ben is going to take him. I’m sure you’ve heard from Beverly that she’s moving here to be with him, so I know they’ll give old Mitts a good home.  _

_ But enough about me and my boring ass life, what about you? How’s your hot mama doing? ;) *No don’t delete this email, I’m sorry* I miss you, you little shit, so write me back and fill me in. And remember, whenever you’re ready, LA and me are gonna be waiting for you.  _

_ Love, _

_ Richie  _

_ * _

_ 07-12-00 _

_ From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ To: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ Dear Richie, _

_ OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!! I can’t believe you’re actually going to be on TV! Well, I can believe it, of course. I never doubted that something like this would happen to you, I just didn’t think it would be this soon. This should go to show you just how fucking talented you are, you dumbfuck, so PLEASE stop belittling your own ability. You absolutely earned this and deserve every bit of it. And I’m going to be watching every second of it and cheering you on because I’m your number one fan, and don’t you ever fucking forget it. Of course, I’m sad that you have to leave New York and Mittens, but you have to do what’s best for you. I know Ben and Bev will take care of Mittens just fine. At least I’ll know where he is.  _

_ As for me, well… first of all, my mom isn’t doing so well now. She’s taken a turn for the worst, so I don’t expect she’ll last to the end of the year. She’s in and out of the hospital a lot, but she’s refusing hospice care because she wants to be at home. So, I don’t know what will happen, but it’s a lot to take in right now. In other news, I’m sort of officially dating Myra now? I’m not even sure how that happened, but it kind of snuck up on me all of a sudden. I’ve never been in a relationship before, I don’t even know how I landed in THIS one, and I don’t know exactly how I feel about it. But we’ll see what happens, I guess. My mom is strangely all for it, which I was not expecting from her whatsoever. It’s really weird. Anyway, don’t forget me when you’re a big TV star, Tozier.  _

_ Love, _

_ Eddie <3  _

*

February 5, 2001

Entertainment 

**MID-SEASON REPLACEMENT** **_LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS_ ** **A RATINGS SMASH**

*

_ 03-13-01 _

_ From: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ Eds, I know I told you this on the phone last night, but I really am so sorry about your mom. I just.. I was thinking about you all day and I wanted to ask again if you’re absolutely SURE there’s nothing I can do to help you with the funeral or whatever. Or just to be there for you. I can be on the first flight over if you want me to, just say the word. Ok? Or just call me anytime if you need to talk. You have my cell phone number. Don’t worry about what time it is, I’ll drop whatever I’m doing.  _

_ Love, _

_ Richie  _

_ * _

_ 03-14-01 _

_ From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ To: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ That’s sweet of you, Richie, but I can’t ask you to do that. Honestly, I’m holding up a lot better than I thought I would when this day came. It’s hard to explain, I just feel kind of...numb to the whole thing, I guess? I mean, I’m sad, but I also knew this was coming, so it just kind of is what it is. Anyway, I love you for offering, but Myra and I have the funeral arrangements handled, so you don’t need to drop everything just for me. I’ll be ok.  _

_ By the way, I didn’t get a chance to tell you this on the phone, but I caught you on Letterman with the cast the other night! You were so adorable, but can I please beg you to iron your shirt before the next time you appear on national television? Can that be the one favor I ask of you? I’m only half kidding. (Mostly kidding. That’s my Trashmouth. Honestly, I really love that you’re still you, even on TV).  _

_ Love,  _

_ Eddie <3 _

*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Together With Our Families, _

_ We _

**_MYRA & EDWARD_ **

_ Request the honor of your _

_ presence at the celebration  _

_ of our marriage  _

**_SATURDAY, AUGUST 18, 2001_ **

**_2:30 PM_ **

_ St. Mary’s Catholic Church _

_ Derry, Maine _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

*

_ 06-14-01 _

_ From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ To: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ Hey, big TV star, I know you’re busy and stuff, but you still keep dodging the question of if you’re going to be able to make it to the wedding. Like I told you on the phone before, I really want you to be my best man. Or at least be there, if you don’t want to be in the wedding. You don’t HAVE to be in it. I can ask Bill to be the best man if you want, but I really do want you there. It won’t be as meaningful without my best friend. Call me or email me and let me know.  _

_ Love, _

_ Spaghetti <3 <3 _

_ * _

_ 06-15-01 _

_ From: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

~~_ Eds _ ~~

~~_ I don’t think I can do it. I literally can’t do it.  _ ~~

~~_ I cried when you started dating her and I threw up after you told me you were getting married.  _ ~~

~~_ I feel like there’s a hole in my chest. A hole that’s always going to be there for as long as you’re not mine.  _ ~~

~~_ I’m not a good enough actor to pretend to be happy for you while I’m dying inside.  _ ~~

~~_ I can’t go to your wedding and watch you marry someone else, I just can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.  _ ~~

_ Hey, Eds. I’m sorry I haven’t replied to you lately. I’ve just been so fucking busy with the show and the press tours, plus my agent keeps setting up movie auditions for me while the iron is hot before everyone gets sick of my face, so I’ve just been on the go nonstop for months. Did I mention they set me up on a date with Jennifer Love Hewitt just for the paparazzi opportunities? Stop your fucking laughing. Nice girl, actually, but thank god it was only for one afternoon.  _

_ Anyway, Eds, I’m really sorry, but August just isn’t going to be a good month for me, schedule-wise. I know you want me there, and I really wish I could be there, but there’s just no way they’re going to let me go all the way to Maine for a wedding when there’s so much work to be done. Such is the life of a performer, I suppose. I don’t think Mya would want me there, anyway. Half my best man speech was probably going to be dick jokes. Totally would ruin her big day, can’t have that. Call me soon, though. Ok? _

_ Love, _

_ Richie _

_ * _

_ 06-16-01 _

_ From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ To: Trashmouth68@aol.com _

~~_ Oh god, please, you have to come  _ ~~

~~_ I’m not even sure I want to do this, I need you there to tell me everything is going to be ok _ ~~

~~_ I’m scared, I’m so fucking scared _ ~~

~~_ Please? _ ~~

_ It’s ok, Richie. I understand. Just don’t forget about me completely, ok? I still love you the most, remember. I’ll call you later.  _

_ Love, _

_ Eddie <3 _

_ * _

_ 08-19-01 _

_ From: BirdNerdSeventySix@aol.com _

_ To: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ Look, Rich, I know why you didn’t come to the wedding. Ok? I get it. But as your oldest friend, I really want you to know that you not being there was FELT by at least one of the “happy couple” and it was not the bride. I’m just telling you, if I wasn’t there as the date of the best man and knew for sure this was actually a wedding, I would have never known it was supposed to be a happy day for Eddie. He looked like he was being carted off to prison while she was all smiles and fuckin sunbeams. I’m no scientist, but I’m like 95% sure that this marriage will be lucky to last a year or two. Three, tops. What I’m telling you is that I know you’re sad right now, but I wouldn’t throw in the towel just yet. He’s gonna get there eventually. Be patient.  _

_ Love you, fuckface  _

_ -Stan _

_ * _

_ 07-13-02 _

_ From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ To: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ Dear Richie, _

_ Oh. My. GOD. We went to see your horror movie last night. Myra didn’t care for it, obviously (she hates horror movies in general), but I fucking LOVED it. I mean, it was an excellent movie on its own, but seeing you up on a movie screen was just… Richie, I don’t know if there’s an actual word for how proud I was. Like… I actually fucking cried, do you understand? I got weird looks and Myra thought I was insane, but I don’t even care because MY Richie is a real live movie star and I can’t handle it. You’d better call me when you have a minute so I can gush to you live about everything I loved about it.  _

_ Love your favorite fan, _

_ Eddie <3 _

_ * _

_ 07-14-02 _

_ From: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ Aaw, thanks, Eds! I mean, that reaction is probably a little disproportionate since my screen time amounted to about fifteen minutes, but I’m glad you enjoyed it ;) I’ll call you tonight when I get home from the set.  _

_ Love, _

_ Richie _

_ * _

_ 09-21-03 _

_ From: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ Well, Eds, here I am about to head out the door and catch my ride to the fucking EMMYS. I know I literally just hung up the phone with you and I also know I’m not actually nominated for anything, but I don’t know, I kind of wanted to have this moment down in writing somewhere? It being my very first Big Boy Award Show, and all (no, I’m not counting the MTV Movie Awards). I’ll make sure to wave to you on the red carpet if they show me on camera. Pray I don’t barf on anyone famous! _

_ Your very nervous Trashmouth, _

_ Richie  _

_ ——————————————— _

_ 09-21-03 _

_ From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com _

_ RE: No Subject _

_ OH MY GOD, I just saw you on the red carpet coverage and screamed! And you have your gold star keychain hanging from your pocket! I can’t fucking believe you. I kinda feel like I was there now :)  _

_ So, uh… quick question. Who was that guy with you on the red carpet? You and he looked a little close together so I was just wondering. Cause I’ve never seen him before. Is he in the cast of the show and I missed it? Just curious, haha :) He didn’t look familiar. Anyway, good luck, don’t barf, have fun, and CALL ME LATER.  _

_ Love, _

_ Eddie <3 <3 <3 _

_ ————————————————— _

_ 09-21-03 _

_ From: Trashmouth69@aol.com _

_ RE: No Subject _

_ Are you talking about Brad??? Oh my god, Eds, I’m cackling. Brad is my (straight, married, with three kids) assistant! I did not, in fact, bring a date to the Emmys. And even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, my manager would have a fucking cow if it wasn’t a female date. And now I’m ending this email because I’m about to call you and gossip about every single celebrity I saw tonight. Tell Myrna not to expect you to come to bed for a while. _

_ Richie _

*

**April 2004**

“You’re on in ten minutes, Mr. Tozier.”

Richie tore his eyes away from his dressing room mirror and looked over at the friendly brunette stagehand, who had just peeked her head in the door. 

“Great, thanks,” he said to her, watching as she left and his assistant took her place in the doorway. He looked flustered and stressed but otherwise relieved, which adequately indicated to Richie that he had good news to share before he even opened his mouth. 

“Did you see him?” Richie asked eagerly, his hands balling up into nervous fists as he awaited Brad’s answer. “Is he here?”

His assistant nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

Richie frowned. “You think so? You can’t miss him, he’s got brown hair, brown eyes, freckles on his nose, roughly goblin height?” 

Brad smiled at him reassuringly. “Calm down, Rich, he’s here. I mean, I can’t vouch for the freckles, but I double checked the picture you gave me several times. He’s in the third row, center.”

Richie let out a sigh of relief that only briefly made him feel better before he was suddenly overcome with a new wave of apprehension.  _ Oh god, oh god, OH MY GOD, he’s here. He’s actually here, fuck. He’s here and I already forgot half my fucking jokes, I’m going to die.  _

“Great,” he managed to say in a somewhat calm tone, fixing his assistant with a satisfied smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now, can you please get lost?” asked Richie goodnaturedly. “I want to make a quick phone call before I go on.”

“Ok, but make it  _ really _ quick, because you’re on in eight,” said Brad, backing out of the dressing room and closing the door behind him. Richie waited until he heard Brad’s footsteps move down the hall before he pulled his cell phone out of his suit pocket with trembling hands. He flipped it open and shakily dialed Stan’s number, hoping that his friend would actually answer, and nearly dying of relief when Stan picked up on the second ring. 

“Hello?”

“Staniel, drop whatever the fuck you’re doing because I have seven and a half minutes to showtime and I need a goddamn pep talk,” Richie blurted out in a rush. 

“Wait, what? That Comedy Central special? That’s right now?” asked Stan. 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a special, Stanley. It’s just an episode of  _ Comedy Central Presents _ ,” Richie corrected him. “But… fuck, Eddie is here.”

“ _ Excuse me?” _

“He’s here,” Richie repeated. “I mean, I knew he was coming, it’s not a surprise or anything. Last month we did a video chat online and he said he and Maria were planning a spring trip out west anyway and he wanted to visit for a few days, and what was I gonna say? No? Fuck out of here. Anyway, whatever, I don’t have time to give you the full story, the point is I’m about to go out on stage and tell a bunch of horrible jokes, and he’s here and I haven’t seen him in over four fucking years and he’s gonna be watching and I’m so nervous I’m going to fucking throw up, so I need you to tell me that I’ve got this and I’m not going to fuck this up in front of Eddie and millions of television viewers.”

He breathed heavily, recovering from his run-on rant while he waited for Stan’s reply. There was a beat of silence, and then…

“Bold of you to assume millions of people are going to tune in to watch your episode.”

“STANLEY, I SWEAR TO CHRIST..”

“Ok, ok,” said Stan. “Listen, if nothing else, you’re a solid performer. Just do your set and try to forget that Eddie is even there…. wait, is that woman with him?”

“Probably,” muttered Richie. 

“Ugh. Ten bucks says she’s going to watch the entire show with cat ass face.”

“Thank you for that generous contribution to this conversation. You kiss Bill with that mouth?”

“Frequently.”

“Poor guy,” Richie muttered as the stagehand came back to peek inside the room, holding up four fingers once she saw that he was on the phone. “Listen, Stan, I have to go. Just… tell me I’m not gonna fuck up.”

“You’re not gonna fuck up.”

“Thank you.”

“ _ This  _ time.”

“GOODBYE, STANLEY,” retorted Richie, flipping his phone shut with a satisfying snap. He took one last glance in the mirror, giving his own cheeks a few slaps and trying to psyche himself up into not running, screaming, out of the theater. 

_ You. Are. A fucking professional, Tozier. You are NOT going to fuck this up, this is NOT going to be like the talent show at the beach when you met him. You’ve been on stage, you’ve been on TV. You’ve presented at award shows. You are going to march your ass out there and perform your set and Eddie is going to cheer you on like he always does, and then you’re going to go out to a nice dinner with him and Minka and ...try not to gag at the idea of her touching him. Grow up.  _

He reached for the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing since he’d arrived, downed the rest in one gulp, and walked out of the dressing room with his head held as high as possible. He made his way to the stage entrance, where Brad and the friendly stagehand were waiting for him. 

“You good, dude?” asked Brad as the stagehand smoothed the wrinkles out of his suit jacket. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m fine,” he lied as the announcer loudly yelled his name and the sound of hundreds of clapping hands reached his ears. He took a deep breath and strolled out onto the stage with a confidence he didn’t fully feel, immediately launching into his set even as his eyes hopefully scanned what little he could see of the audience beyond the blinding stage lights reflecting off his glasses. 

_ Oh, fuck, that’s him, _ he thought once he’d finally managed to locate Eddie, looking every bit as beautiful as he remembered, even if he couldn’t see him all that well. That didn’t really matter, because while Richie may not have been able to see him, he could certainly  _ hear _ him, his church bell-like laugh easily distinguishable to him among the hundreds of others that roared in his ear at the end of every punchline. He felt more and more invincible with every joke, his confidence going from zero to a hundred as he put his all into his performance, no longer even caring that there were cameras pointed at him from every angle, or that he was telling someone else’s lame dick jokes, just as long as he could use them to keep making Eddie laugh. Hell, if he could make a living solely from doing that, he would call that a life well spent. 

He barely noticed the time passing, but of course it did, and before he knew it he was waving goodbye at the audience as he made his way stage right and practically bolted backstage, scurrying into his dressing room as fast as he could and shutting himself inside. He pressed himself against the door for a moment, letting his heart pound in his chest while he waited for the adrenaline rush to run its course. 

_ I made it. I FUCKING SURVIVED.  _

_ He laughed. I made him laugh.  _

He changed his clothes quickly, trading his performance suit for a simple long sleeved button down shirt over a plain, white T-shirt, black jeans, and dark sneakers. He took a critical glance at himself in the mirror, decided his hair still looked ok, and transferred his arcade photos from his suit pocket safely into his wallet. He grabbed it and his phone, hightailing it out of the theater with barely a wave goodbye to his assistant on his way out. He had instructed Eddie earlier to meet him outside the back entrance once the show was finished, and he wasn’t about to make him wait by being caught up in an autograph frenzy for hours. 

_ Ok, keep your cool, _ he instructed himself as he made his way around the back of the building.  _ I know it’s been years but stay calm, behave, don’t be a rude bitch to Mia, try to just enjoy seeing Eds aga- _

“Richie!!!”

The sound of Eddie’s voice instantly threw Richie’s self-pep talk out the window as he finished rounding the corner and suddenly found himself face to face with him for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. For a moment, as cliche as it sounded, Richie felt as though literally everything around him stopped moving like he was Ewan McGregor in  _ Big Fish _ , but that feeling quickly disappeared as Eddie launched himself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug that nearly squeezed the breath out of his lungs. 

“Eds,” he murmured, trying to get his brain to cooperate with his limbs as he hugged him back, his whole body instantly relaxing as he breathed in the scent of soap, sanitizer, shampoo and cologne that was uniquely Eddie Kaspbrak. 

“Richieeee,” squealed Eddie, still holding onto him tightly as he rocked them from side to side. “It’s been a long fucking time.”

“Too goddamn long,” Richie agreed, biting his lip to hold back the tears of joy his eyes wanted to shed. He could have happily stayed like that forever, his body pressed up against Eddie’s in a way that felt more like a home than any actual place he’d ever lived in, but a loud throat clear from behind him immediately killed that dream. 

“Oh, sorry,” said Eddie, breaking from the hug, which caused the night air to suddenly feel more chilly. “Um, Richie, this is my wife, Myra. Myra, this is my best friend in the whole world, Richie.”

“Wonderful to meet you,” said Myra, greeting Richie with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she held a hand out for him to shake. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you too,” replied Richie awkwardly, shaking her hand for as brief a time as humanly possible before he dropped it. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting Myra to look like, but despite being around the same age as himself and Eddie, she somehow looked older. He studied her face, trying to place why something about her seemed so familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite focus long enough to put his finger on it without feeling nauseous all over again at the idea that this was the person who got the life with Eddie he would have gladly died for. 

“Eddie Bear can just never stop talking about you,” Myra continued, snaking one arm around Eddie’s waist and slowly pulling him further away from Richie and closer to herself. “I think he’s made me watch just about everything you’ve ever done.”

“My condolences,” said Richie.  _ Goddamn she looks familiar, but why??? _

“Oh, but we enjoyed the show tonight,” said Eddie quickly, giving Richie a proud grin. “Really, you’ve always been great, but you’ve come so far.” He looked over at Myra, as if for confirmation that she agreed. 

“Well, Eddie knows man jokes aren’t usually my cup of tea, but yes, you’re quite a performer,” replied Myra. 

“I thought you were hilarious,” Eddie assured him as the watch around his wrist began to beep insistently. 

“Oh, Eddie, it’s time for your pill,” Myra crooned, watching him like a hawk as Eddie rooted around in the pocket of his jacket. 

“Yeah, thanks, I never would have known what the alarm was for if it weren’t for you, honey,” replied Eddie in a tone Richie didn’t think Myra entirely understood was supposed to be sarcastic, because she just nodded in agreement. 

“He just has a little sinus thing,” she said, addressing Richie’s question before he could even ask it. “The doctor has him on these pills to help, that’s all.”

Richie looked at Eddie as the other man finished dry swallowing a huge pill from the bottle he’d retrieved from his pocket. “Are you feeling ok, Eds?” he asked, concerned. “I mean, if you’re sick we can alw-“

“Trust me, Richie, I’m fine,” Eddie insisted as he put the bottle away. “I don’t even feel sick. Now, are we going to dinner or what?”

He removed himself from Myra’s grip and crossed back over to Richie, slinging one arm over his shoulder and leaving his wife to bring up the rear, much to Richie’s amusement, as the three of them made their way down the street to wait for a cab to hail. Eddie scrambled inside first once a taxi finally stopped for them, dragging Richie in to sit next to him, and the moment Richie caught a glimpse of the irritated thundercloud expression on Myra’s face as she slid into the only remaining empty seat, he suddenly knew exactly why she looked so familiar. 

_ Holy fucking shit, she’s literally Mrs. K reincarnated. Eddie. EDDIE. You married your fucking MOM.  _

He didn’t know if he felt better or worse after hitting upon this realization, which only strengthened itself in his mind once they had been seated at the restaurant and Myra shifted into full-blown Sonia mode, grabbing Eddie’s menu out of his hand and scanning the pages critically. 

“Oh, Eddie, you can’t eat any of this stuff,” she opined dramatically with a shake of her head. “You’re allergic to half the ingredients in every dish, you’ll get sick for sure.”

“Myra, I can see from here there’s at least three things on that menu I’d be fine with,” Eddie protested weakly. 

“But cross contamination, sweetie.”

“Aw, come on, Myra,” Richie said. “Eds here is a big boy. Been eating solid food all by himself for almost a decade now.”

“You’re so funny, dickwad,” muttered Eddie, wrapping his entire hand around the rim of his wine glass as his eyes bored into Richie’s. 

“Yeah, you seemed to think so back at the theater, Spaghetti.”

“Order the soup for both of us,” said Myra, ignoring their teasing conversation and pointing halfway down the menu as she handed it back over to Eddie and slid out of the booth. “I’m just going to visit the little girls’ room again.”

“You sure you don’t want a real drink when the waiter comes back?” asked Eddie. 

“No, just water,” she replied as she made her way away from the table and toward the restrooms. Richie wasn’t sure if he imagined the sudden, relaxed shift in Eddie’s face once she was gone, but without her beside him, Eddie instantly seemed much more like his regular self. 

“I swear, lately she spends more time in restrooms than she spends anywhere else,” said Eddie lightly. 

“Yeah, that’s so very interesting and gross. So, uh, you do realize that you married your mother, right?” said Richie between sips of his bourbon, wasting no time in cutting directly to the chase. He didn’t know how much time he had before Myra would be returning to the table, and he wanted at least a few minutes of a real conversation with Eddie before that happened. 

Eddie choked a little on his wine, coughing and sputtering as he set the glass down and reached for a napkin to dab at his mouth. “Excuse me??”

“Come on, Eds, please don’t tell me you don’t see it,” Richie pressed.

“I really don’t.”

“Really? Because she looks, like… exactly like her. Like a long lost twin or a daughter or some shit. This is like that creepy incest book all the girls in high school wouldn’t shut up about.  _ Flowers in the Garden _ , or whatever.”

“Attic,” Eddie corrected him. “And can you  _ please _ stop talking?”

“And aside from how she looks, she’s like two seconds away from taking your menu away and feeding you baby food from a jar in her purse,” Richie continued. “Is she gonna pre-chew your food for you too?”

“Fucking gross, Richie,” groaned Eddie, reaching into his pocket and retrieving yet another bottle of pills, shaking two out into his hand. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. She’s just protective.”

_ Yes, you’ve said that exact sentence before. And not about Megan.  _

“Ok, fine,” said Richie. “Just out of curiosity, what would happen if you didn’t order the soup?”

Eddie let out a nervous laugh. “What’s wrong with soup? Maybe I do want the soup.”

“Eddie, we both know you don’t actually want the soup,” said Richie with a roll of his eyes. “First of all, your eyes have been wandering over to the chicken parmesan at the next table for the past ten minutes…. you just did it again!” he exclaimed. 

“I did not,” Eddie insisted, sliding his eyes back onto Richie. 

Richie smiled across the table at him. “I  _ challenge _ you to order something, anything, besides the soup.”

“Now who’s acting like my mother?”

Richie sighed. “What’s with the pharmacy, Eds?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the pill bottle and changing the subject in defeat. 

“Oh, these?” said Eddie casually as he put the pills in his mouth and swallowed. “These are nothing, they’re just for anxiety.”

“Since when do you need anxiety pills? You never took them in New York.”

“I didn’t need them then,” said Eddie. 

“But you need them now?”

“Yes, because now I have a stressful job and more bills and a wife, and sometimes it’s…. it’s a lot, so I just take these when I need them, ok?” 

Richie didn’t say anything in response to this, but his opinion must have shown on his face, because Eddie softened and reached across the table for his hand. He hooked their pinkies together and fixed his dark, brown eyes onto Richie’s. 

“I promise you, I’m ok,” he said, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Are you?”

“ _ Really _ ,” Eddie said again, grabbing his whole hand and holding onto it as he gently rubbed his thumb across Richie’s skin. “I’m fine.”

Richie’s chest ached. He didn’t believe him for a minute; everything about Eddie’s face, not to mention Richie’s own intuition, told him the exact opposite of what his mouth was saying. But, as much as he wanted to, he wasn’t going to press him further. He didn’t want to waste what little time he had with Eddie arguing about this, nor did he want to piss him off and risk a shortened visit. 

“Ok,” he conceded, squeezing Eddie’s hand and hoping he sounded convincing enough. Eddie gave him a small smile, which instantly faded from his face as he let go of Richie’s hand just in time for Myra and their waiter to arrive at the exact same moment. 

“So, have we decided?” the waiter asked cheerfully as Myra slid back into the booth beside Eddie. 

“My husband and I will both be having the soup,” replied Myra before Eddie could open his mouth. 

“And I’ll be having the chicken parmesan, please,” said Richie, giving a pointed look over at Eddie, whose lips curled up ever so slightly. 

_ It’ll at least be here if you want it, Spaghetti.  _

*

_ Knock knock _

The loud, insistent rapping on the apartment door jolted Richie out of his already restless sleep, which he’d barely gotten in the first place after the odyssey that was dinner with the Kaspbraks. The rest of the meal had gone relatively fine. Myra was polite but clearly unimpressed by any of Richie’s stories about show business, and Eddie told him all about his risk analyst promotion at his company. To an outsider, they would have looked like any group of people playing catch up on each other’s lives. 

Only, Richie knew that wasn’t the case because his attention was focused almost exclusively on Eddie, and so, little things like his never relaxed death grip on his glass, or the way he recoiled ever so slightly from Myra’s touches as the night and the wine wore on, didn’t escape his notice. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to push it, and he didn’t, not even as he hugged Eddie goodbye for the night and put him into a cab with Myra, whose polite mask had already slipped away and had been replaced by the face of someone who was definitely about to start an argument. 

He didn’t push. 

But that didn’t mean he was going to be able to silence the little voice screaming inside his head that Eddie was, very clearly, not happy and there was nothing Richie could do to fix it. 

So yeah, sleep had been hard to come by that night. 

_ Knock knock _

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on, I’m coming,” Richie grumbled, sitting up from the sofa, where he’d crashed for the night with most of his clothes still on except for his button-up shirt and his shoes. He reached for his glasses and slapped them onto his face before he stood up and padded his way down the hall toward the door, which was practically vibrating from the desperate knocking that was happening on the other side. 

“Oh my god, it’s literally eight in the morning, so you had better be my agent or a hooker,” he said as he undid the lock and swung the door open. 

“I’m neither, sorry,” said Eddie, pushing his way past him and into the apartment before Richie could even mentally process what was happening. 

“Yeah, sure, come in,” said Richie quietly as he glanced from Eddie to the empty hallway and carefully shut the door. He turned to face his friend, who had obviously showered and changed clothes, but otherwise looked like he’d gotten about as much sleep as Richie the night before.

“Not that I’m not delighted at this little intrusion, Spaghetti, but to what do I owe this early morning honor?” Richie asked. Eddie looked him up and down, biting his lip slightly before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you have plans for today?”

Richie blinked. “I… I… what?”

“Do you have plans for the day?” Eddie repeated. 

“Don’t  _ you _ have plans for today?” Richie replied, adjusting his glasses nervously as Eddie took a step closer. “Where’s Marley?”

“After the fight we had last night, she’s probably off doing her own thing today, and to be honest, I don’t care right now,” muttered Eddie. 

“You fought? About what?” Richie asked curiously, suddenly very interested. 

“It… it doesn’t matter. Are you free today or not?” asked Eddie, taking his inhaler out of his pocket and taking a few puffs as he waited for Richie’s answer. 

“Well, I have a meeting with my manager and some other people at lunch, but-“

“Oh,” said Eddie, his face falling ever so slightly. “That’s ok, I can just go-“

“I’ll cancel it,” said Richie without a moment of hesitation. 

“Richie, no.”

“Richie yes,” he retorted. “I can see them any time. They’ll live.”

Eddie’s eyes locked with his for a moment as he seemed to be trying to decide what to say next. He didn’t end up saying anything, only closing the gap between them and hugging Richie like his life depended on it. 

“Jeez, Spaghetti,” said Richie softly as he hugged him back. “Are you ok?”

Eddie broke from the hug just enough to look at his face, his expression unreadable. “Go get your shit together and let’s go out, ok?”

Richie smiled, willing to do anything he asked if it meant more time with him. “Yes, sir.”


	7. Touch My Soul, You Know How

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEX, You’ve been warned ^_^

_ “He’s my best friend, Myra.” _

_ “Your mother never liked him, and I can see why. So cocky and self-important; he’s not the kind of friend you need to have, Eddie.” _

_ “He’s-“ _

_ “No regard for anyone, no consideration for your allergies, name dropping all these famous people like we should think he’s important…” _

_ “He’s important to ME.” _

_ “Well, thank goodness that’s over with. You’ve been polite and seen him, now we can get on with our trip.” _

_ “We’re here for another day and a half, I want to see him at least one more time before we-“ _

_ “Oh, I don’t think so. That’s not happening.” _

_ “I haven’t seen him in years, this is the only time I’ll get to see him for a while, and I want to-“ _

_ “And I don’t think it’s a good idea, so we aren’t doing that. Besides, I have something for us to do tomorrow night.” _

_ “I can visit him during the day, then.” _

_ “I said no, Eddie. You should rest during the day, you’re sick.” _

_ “I’m not fucking sick!” _

_ “I said NO.” _

_ “...... I don’t need your permission to visit my friend.” _

_ “I’m your WIFE, I think I’m a little more important than some arrogant, untalented jerk you used to kn-“ _

_ “DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT!” _

“Eds?”

Eddie blinked, the echoes of the previous night’s fight slowly fading away into nothingness as he came out of his own jumbled thought cloud and remembered, with relief, that he was in Richie Tozier’s living room and not the unbearably stifling, prison-like hotel room with Myra. He turned to face Richie himself, whose eyes were clouded with concern behind his glasses as he looked at him quizzically. 

“Are you ok?” Richie asked him, not for the first time since Eddie had stormed into his apartment. It was a valid question. Eddie himself didn’t even know the answer to it half the time, and he sure as fuck didn’t know it now. On one hand, no, he wasn’t ok. He hadn’t been ok since the day he’d boarded that train out of New York back to Maine, despite every fiber of his being screaming at him not to, and he’d been even less ok since the day he’d made the biggest mistake of his life and sealed it with a band of gold that might as well have been a shiny, gilded handcuff. 

But now? At this particular moment, with Richie standing there in front of him, still smelling like mountain rain body wash from his shower, his winsome eyes fixed on him in a way that made Eddie feel like he’d just been safely wrapped up in a warm, fuzzy blanket?

Yeah, in that regard, he was more than ok. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Eddie replied, giving him a smile and what he hoped was a convincing nod. “I was just lost in thought, that’s all.”

Richie looked skeptical. “You’re sure?”

Eddie nodded again. “Yes.” He glanced around, properly taking in the details of his surroundings for the first time since he’d arrived. “You have a really nice place,” he said brightly. He was mostly trying to change the subject, but it was true. Richie’s new apartment was a far cry from the cramped shoebox they had called home together back in New York. It was still on the small side, but it was brighter and cleaner, with a large window in the living room that granted plenty of sunshine and a nice view of the street below instead of a gross alley.

“Thanks,” said Richie with a smile. “Not exactly that old dump in Bushwick, huh?”

Eddie laughed. “Definitely not. It’s all so… so…”

“Clean?” suggested Richie in amusement. “I know. You’ll be so proud to know that I’ve finally learned how to properly house clean. I even have different products for everything.”

“I was going to say bright, but yeah, since you brought it up, clean also works,” said Eddie. “Although, I can see from here that you still aren’t that handy with a vacuum.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Give me a fuckin break. That thing is huge and sometimes it’s hard to maneuver it around to get to every spot. Which, yes, is also what she said.”

Eddie tried unsuccessfully to let out a groan that quickly turned into a burst of genuine laughter. God, he’d missed Richie so much.

“That was so not funny,” he teasingly admonished him, even as he still wheezed with laughter. 

“Sure it wasn’t,” Richie sarcastically agreed with a warm smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. “Alright, Edward Spaghetward, I’ve canceled everything for the day and I’m 100% yours. Where would you like to go?” he asked, grabbing his jacket from where it hung on the back of a chair and slipping it on. 

“Anywhere,” replied Eddie. He didn’t give a single fuck where they went or what they did, he only cared that whatever it was, it was with Richie.

“Ok, well, I’m starving,” said Richie after a moment of thought. “What about you? You barely touched that soup last night and you ate like, two bites of the chicken parmesan. Have you eaten since then?”

Eddie shook his head. “No,” he replied, suddenly realizing that he actually  _ was _ pretty hungry. He hadn’t thought about food at all since they’d left the restaurant, so caught up was he in the chaos that followed. 

“Jesus,” muttered Richie. “Ok, yeah, let’s get some breakfast in you.” He grabbed a blue baseball cap off of the coffee table and jammed it on top of his head, bits of unruly hair sticking out of it from every direction. 

“What’s with the head gear?” Eddie asked. 

“Ugh, I know, I know, but it’s necessary,” Richie groaned. “Makes it harder for fans to recognize me on the street. I mean, not that much harder, but just a little.”

“Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting you’re famous.” It was sort of true. He’d known Richie for so many years that sometimes he genuinely didn’t think about the fact that his friend was a celebrity now. To Eddie, he was always just going to be good old Richie Tozier, who chugged milk straight from the carton and always put the toilet paper roll on top of the holder instead of actually on it. 

“Well, trust me, unless you want our day to be taken over by a bunch of overexcited teenage girls, and possibly their moms, we need the hat.” Richie glanced at himself in a nearby mirror and then turned to face Eddie, offering him his hand with a smile. “Alright, Eduardo. Andale.”

Eddie gladly took the hand, his cheeks reddening as his whole body suddenly felt warm. 

“Lead the way, Hollywood.”

*

Breakfast turned out to be at a tiny little cafe called Rolling Scones, which was only several blocks away from the apartment building, and which Richie assured him would be a wonderful experience. 

“Like, seriously, Eddie, the first time I ate a blueberry muffin from this place, I think I ascended to a whole other plane,” he gushed as he held the door open for him and led them over to the short line in front of the counter. “So I particularly recommend that, but honestly, everything here is good, so you might have a hard time choosing. Get whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“Aw, Rich, you don’t have to,” Eddie protested. 

“I  _ want _ to,” Richie insisted. “I haven’t seen you in years, and I’ve missed your annoying ass, so shut up and let me treat you.”

Eddie smiled. “Ok, ok, you’ve made your point. Ugh, I don’t know what I want. Everything looks so good,” he mused, his stomach rumbling as his eyes roamed over the various enticing baked goods on rotating displays behind glass cases. 

“Fuck, I know,” Richie agreed as the line moved forward. “I’m like ninety percent sure that they put crack in the muffins, but also the bagels are, like, actual angel food. I might get both.”

“A bagel sounds great, actually,” said Eddie as the heavenly scent of bread filled his nostrils. “An everything bagel.”

Richie grinned. “That’s my boy. Watcha want on it?”

“Strawberry jelly,” replied Eddie, feeling oddly elated at the prospect of choosing his own food in a restaurant for once. “And double toasted.”

“You lost me at the double toasted part, but whatever revs your engine, Eds,” said Richie, gently placing a hand on Eddie’s back to step them both forward as the last customer in front of them got their food and left. 

“What can I get for you?” asked the cheerful girl behind the counter. 

“Blueberry muffin and an onion bagel for me, lightly toasted, with extra plain cream cheese. I cannot stress the extra part enough, I want this bagel to be more cream cheese than bread,” said Richie. “And this lovely gentleman with me would like an everything bagel, double toasted, with strawberry jelly.”

“A normal amount of jelly,” added Eddie. “I’m not an animal.”

“He’s so charming,” said Richie sweetly. “And two orange juices, please. Orange is still your favorite, right Eds?”

“It sure is,” replied Eddie with a smile. 

They received their food and carried it over to a small booth by the window, Eddie taking his bagel and beginning to delicately spread jelly evenly on both halves while Richie slathered pounds of cream cheese on his and smashed the two pieces together like a sandwich. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie murmured in both disgust and awe as he watched Richie bring the cheesy monstrosity to his mouth and take a massive bite. 

“Whaaa?” Richie asked with a frown, barely able to speak through a mouthful of bagel. 

“Is this some kind of endurance test for your arteries, or are you perhaps hoping to eat your way into an early grave?” asked Eddie.

“Oh, excuse me, Dr. K,” said Richie sarcastically after he had swallowed. “I’m sorry if I prefer to actually be able to taste my condiments.”

“Your... what the fuck, cream cheese isn’t a condiment!”

“Yes it is,” Richie protested. “Look it up.”

“It is  _ not _ ,” Eddie insisted.

“Um, do you or do you not spread cream cheese on food to make it taste even better?” asked Richie. 

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t make it a condiment!” exclaimed Eddie. “Unless you can dip fries in it, it’s considered a spread.”

“How do you know I don’t dip fries in cream cheese?” said Richie as he took another huge bite of his bagel. 

“I lived with you for years, you dipshit,” said Eddie dryly. “And in that time, I watched you do many, many gross things with your food, but never once did I see you dip a french fry in cream cheese.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since you’ve seen me, Eds. Maybe I’m a whole new man.”

Eddie snorted. “Nah, you’re still you. Still can’t manage to eat an entire meal like a human,” he added, grabbing a napkin and reaching across the table to gently dab at the plop of cream cheese that had set up shop on the corner of Richie’s mouth after his last bite. “Honestly, how have you survived without me all this time?”

“With profound difficulty,” answered Richie as though it were a serious question, his voice unexpectedly softer as he allowed Eddie to finish cleaning him up. He flashed him a smile, his eyes twinkling brightly from behind his glasses, and  _ fuck _ , there it was again, hitting him all at once like a speeding train. That warmth in Eddie’s chest that he hadn’t felt since New York; the feeling of home that he’d always associated with Richie (and only Richie) even if he could never quite identify the reason why. 

He was beginning to think recently, just a little bit, that he  _ did _ know the reason, but the overwhelming prospect frightened him just as much as it excited him. 

“What’s the matter, Eds?” asked Richie, bringing Eddie’s thought process to a halt. “You’re looking at me like I just grew a dick out of my forehead.”

“Wow, with that kind of talk you must be absolutely swimming in attention from gentlemen,” said Eddie.

“You’d think, but actually, no, not usually,” said Richie as he switched gears and took a bite of his muffin. “You know you and Jim Beam are the only men in my life.”

Eddie thoughtfully chewed on his bagel, filing this information away in his brain in spite of himself. Actually, he found himself thinking about it all through the rest of breakfast. He thought about it while he and Richie aimlessly wandered through the streets with no real destination in mind until they finally decided to catch a movie, and he thought about it a  _ lot _ while he sat in the back of the darkened theater beside Richie with a shared bucket of popcorn, watching  _ 13 Going On 30 _ and wondering how differently their lives could have gone if only… if only…

_ You never saw him so much as go on a date when you lived together, did you, Eds? Not even once.  _

_ He was always there to hold you… comfort you… hug you a little too long and close, but you did the same things, didn’t you? You didn’t know why at the time, but you did the same fucking things.  _

_ He didn’t like Linda, that’s starting to make sense now, isn’t it? He’s too busy to come to your wedding but he’d happily fly over in a heartbeat for any other reason if you ever asked, you know he would. You KNOW he would. But neither of you ever said anything out loud, and now look.  _

_ Fuck.  _

_ FUCK.  _

“So, Spaghetti, I would absolutely love to know what’s going on in that adorable little head of yours,” said Richie, twirling his hat around his finger as they exited the theater after the movie and stepped back out onto the street. 

“Huh?”

“You’ve been quiet as a mouse ever since Jennifer Garner started shoving Razzles in her mouth,” Richie continued. “You ok there, dude?”

Eddie shrugged as they walked along, their arms down by their sides so close that their fingers accidentally brushed together once or twice, a completely ordinary occurrence in previous years that now sent a jolt of electricity through his veins every time it happened. 

“I guess I was just thinking about the movie,” he said quietly. 

“You mean like how every single person at the party just happened to be a trained dancer who knew the  _ Thriller _ dance? Yeah, I’m gonna think about that a lot, too,” Richie quipped.

Eddie laughed. “No. Well, yes. But actually, more like… if I could go back in time and do my life over again, if it would have turned out different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know, like… if I would have ended up where I am today,” said Eddie, unsure how to put his rambling thoughts into actual words. “If I would have just left home for college straight out of high school, or ran away to New York sooner, or… or never left New York at all,” he added, quickly hiding the catch in his voice in that last part by clearing his throat. “You know. If I’d done any of those things, if I would be…”

“Still married to your mom?”

“Oh, fuck off,” groaned Eddie, giving him a light slap on the arm even as he smiled. “Don’t you ever wonder what would happen if you were able to have a do-over?”

Richie stopped to look at him, his face showing a mixture of curiosity and… surprise? Fear? Something Eddie couldn’t quite pinpoint, anyway. He opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, but a high-pitched shriek from across the street killed whatever those words might have been before they ever made it into the air. 

“OH MY GOOOOOOD, IT’S RICHIE TOZIER!!” 

“Oh, shit,” Richie muttered, his face going pale as a group of college-aged girls on the opposite side of the street all collectively turned to look in their direction at once. “Alright, start walking. FAST. We’re gonna turn down that side street just over there and then just start running in any direction we can to lose ‘em before they catch up to us.”

Eddie gaped from him to the girls, who were all attempting to cross the road despite the heavy flow of cars blocking their way. “Oh my god.”

Richie grabbed his hand, pulling him along and down the side street before Eddie could finish processing this unexpected turn of events. He scanned their whereabouts carefully before running down yet another side street, grasping into Eddie’s hand the entire way, until they reached a small tavern. He guided them inside the door and the two of them peeked around the corner, hearing some of the girls but unable to see them any longer. 

“I’m taking a chance that they’re still too young to be allowed in a bar and too stupid to have fake IDs,” explained Richie once they’d caught their breath. “But I think we lost them, thank fuck.” He took his baseball cap and placed it back onto his head, giving Eddie a look that plainly said  _ I told you so.  _

“And that, Eds, is why you must always have access to The Hat.”

“I still can’t believe they were all so excited to see  _ you _ ,” said Eddie teasingly as they showed their IDs to the bored looking guy guarding the actual entrance into the bar. “Maybe if I just went up to them and told them how you sometimes wash your hair with soap and frequently leave your dirty socks lying around on the coffee table, they’d leave you alone.”

“Somehow I think that would probably just encourage them more,” replied Richie with a shudder. “You have no idea how scary fangirls can be. Some middle aged lady slipped a thong into my pocket once while I was signing autographs and I swear to God I used enough soap and hand sanitizer on that day that you  _ had _ to have felt some kind of pride wherever you were, even if you didn’t know why.” 

“So  _ that’s _ what that was,” said Eddie with a smile as made their way to an empty table. “Gross, though. I would have set myself on fire.”

“I considered it, trust me.” Richie removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, giving Eddie a nice view of his arms and causing his brain to temporarily short-circuit.  _ Have… have his arms always looked that nice? Jesus, Eddie, get it together.  _

“Well, I don’t know about you, Eduardo, but I could use a drink,” said Richie, bringing him abruptly back to earth. “You want anything? What’s your poison?”

“Margarita,” replied Eddie, immediately accepting the offer and gladly ignoring the fact that it was barely past two in the afternoon. Maybe a drink was exactly what he needed to distract himself from… well, everything. 

“You got it. I’ll be right back,” said Richie, disappearing over toward the bar and leaving Eddie alone at the table with his thoughts. Which, at the moment, were a jumbled mess that he fervently wished he could turn off somehow. A feeling that only intensified when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and looked down at the caller ID information on the outside. 

“What?” he said as he grudgingly answered the call, figuring he might as well get it over with now rather than deal with an even worse fallout later. 

“Where the hell have you been all day?” Myra exclaimed. “I know you were upset, but it’s been hours, you need to get over it and get back here. We have things to discuss.”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I won’t be back for a while, Myra. Sorry.” He felt freer already having just uttered those simple words in his own defense, something that he rarely did when it came to arguments between the two of them. 

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. “Excuse me?”

“It’s going to be a while longer before I get back,” Eddie repeated wearily. 

“Where  _ are  _ you??”

“I’m with Richie.”

“Oh, what a surprise,” Myra muttered angrily. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“You knew before we left that I wanted to spend some time with him, so no, I  _ don’t  _ know what you expected.”

“Maybe for you to recognize that family is more important than some random friend?”

“He’s my family too,” Eddie retorted hotly. “So excuse me if I’m a little sensitive about you talking shit about him, or if I’m not going to let you just tell me who I can and cannot see anymore, especially when I never get the opportunity to-“ He cut himself off mid-sentence as he saw Richie approaching with their drinks. “I have to go, I’ll see you later.”

“Eddie-“

“Bye.” He flipped his phone shut just as Richie set the drinks down and sat across from him, his curiosity evident on his face. “That was Myra,” he said before Richie could ask. 

“I figured,” said Richie, taking a sip of his drink and looking at Eddie thoughtfully. “You wanna talk about it?”

Eddie sighed and took a sip of his own drink. “I wouldn’t even fucking know where to start,” he answered tiredly, rubbing at his temple with one hand as he gazed across the table at him. “You don’t want to hear all of my problems, trust me.”

Richie frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because  _ I _ barely want to hear about my  _ own _ problems,” Eddie pointed out. “And we haven’t seen each other in forever, so it’s not fair for me to just unload everything on y-“

“Eddie,” said Richie, his voice soft but serious as he reached across the table and gently placed his hand on top of one of Eddie’s. “Eds, you can talk to me. You know that, right? Like… I genuinely give a shit.”

Eddie cast his eyes downward into his glass, biting his lip to keep from melting down at how authentically sincere the other man sounded.

“Eds.”

Eddie closed his eyes briefly, downing most of his drink in one gulp with a wince before looking back up at his friend. “I’m just…. so overwhelmed sometimes,” he murmured, absentmindedly squeezing Richie’s thumb as he spoke. “I wasn’t kidding, I really don’t know where to start.”

Richie looked at him for a moment, his eyes clouded over with concern and something else that Eddie couldn’t quite read. “Alright, you know what?” he said, letting go of Eddie’s hand and standing up from his chair. “I’m getting us more drinks, and you start from the beginning.”

“Richie-“

“Be right back!” called Richie as he disappeared once more over toward the bar. He returned to his seat in no time, sliding a fresh margarita toward Eddie as he sat back down. 

“Alright, Kaspbrak. I’m all ears.”

Eddie took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he cupped the rest of his first drink in both hands. “I… I guess I’ll start from when I first moved back to Derry,” he began, as Richie looked at him intently, clearly hanging onto every word as Eddie spilled out a laundry list of every single way his own life had somehow gotten out of his control. Once he started, he found himself unable to stop, sometimes speaking more to his glass or to a spot on the wall than to Richie, but nevertheless letting the words pour out of him like a free-flowing faucet, with only brief pauses every once in a while to keep the drinks coming. 

“And ever since the day of our wedding, it’s been like… I don’t know… like I’m stuck in some kind of cage, as dumb as that sounds,” he whined as he sipped on his fourth or fifth margarita. “She wants this, she wants that, she wants a big house to impress her family. She has final say in pretty much everything, and it’s like I’m just along for the ride. You know, we’ve tried separating?” he continued, slumping over the table with his head cradled in one hand. “Twice. Or, I guess, it’s more like I’ve tried to leave twice. And every single time she finds some way to reel me back in before I even know what the fuck is happening.” 

“Jesus,” Richie mumbled into his glass. “I hate to bring this up again, but you know who that sounds an awful lot like?”

“Yeah, yeah, my mom, I know,” Eddie groaned. “You’re right. I’ve kind of noticed that in little ways for a while now, but it wasn’t until you pointed it out that I realized just how fucking  _ obvious  _ it was.”

“No wonder your mom was so fuckin eager for you two to hit it off,” said Richie. “If it couldn’t be her own claws holding you in place, she was gonna hand pick the ones that could.”

“Ugh,” Eddie murmured. “See, this is why I hate talking about it. Laying it all out makes me want to hide in a cave forever.”

“Aw, Eds,” said Richie sympathetically, reaching once again for his hand and squeezing it gently. “But doesn’t it feel at least a little better to get it off your chest?”

Eddie sighed. It did, actually. A very little bit. Mostly, though, between the talking, the feel of Richie’s hand on his skin, the alcohol, and the topsy-turvy way his feelings had been crashing over each other for the last two days, it just made him even more overwhelmed. His face burned as the room suddenly felt frighteningly small, as though the walls were going to close in on him if he didn’t get the fuck out of there soon. 

“Fuck, can we just get out of here?” he asked as he downed the rest of his drink. “Let’s just go back to your place, ok?”

Richie nodded, finishing his own drink and slamming the glass down on the table with finality. “Anything you want, Spaghetti,” he said as he stood up and put his jacket back on. “Anything.” 

Eddie immediately felt better once they were out of the dark, stuffy bar and in a cab heading back toward Richie’s building, and better still once they’d arrived and Richie was gently ushering him inside, guiding him toward the sofa with a gentle hand to his back. 

“Alright, Eds, let’s sit you down before you upchuck all over the floor, ok? I think we both remember Halloween 1998 vividly.”

“Are you going to bring that up every time I drink for the rest of our lives?” asked Eddie indignantly as he settled down onto the couch with an offended frown. “That was mostly your fault for convincing me to try that nasty flavored vodka that tasted like rubbing alcohol.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t think our living room rug was ever quite the same after that,” said Richie in amusement. 

“What the fuck, you’re just as drunk as I am right now you bitch,” Eddie pointed out. 

“ _ I _ can handle my liquor.”

“The fuck you can, shall we rehash what happened that one time you overdid the peppermint schnapps and spent the next twelve hours draped over the toilet?”

“Oh, whatever. Are you hungry?” asked Richie, looking thoughtfully in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m not sure I have much in the kitchen right now, but we could order something.”

“Not really, but I do want you to come sit with me,” said Eddie, holding his arms out pleadingly. “Please.”

Richie smiled and obliged, flopping down beside him on the sofa and allowing Eddie to wrap his arms around his middle, his head resting on his chest. “You comfy, Spaghetti?” he said with a laugh as he placed an arm around him protectively. Eddie sighed contentedly, Richie’s steady heartbeat in his ear lulling him into a sense of serene calm he hadn’t felt in years. 

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, breathing in Richie’s comforting scent as his entire body immediately relaxed, every worrisome thought fading away from his brain as he let himself merely exist in the moment. There was no Myra, no stressful job, no strict expectations of who he was supposed to be or how he was supposed to act. There was only him and Richie, in their own little bubble, and that was all he needed or, frankly, wanted. 

“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” said Richie, as if he had heard Eddie’s thoughts. Eddie looked up at him, his heart glowing at the pure affection in the other man’s eyes directed at him. The late afternoon light streaming through the window framed his face in such a way as to make him look almost angel-like as he gazed down at him. Eddie’s breath caught in his throat as his entire being flooded with a mix of emotions he wasn’t prepared to deal with, and he had to sit up straighter in order to get a hold of what little senses he still could in his drunken state. 

“You ok?” asked Richie quizzically. Eddie found himself unable to speak any words, his heart thumping in his chest as he swallowed and met Richie’s eyes, shining and bright behind his glasses. He found his gaze wandering down to Richie’s lips for the briefest of moments, wondering what it would feel like to press his own against them, to feel them on his skin, to taste them…

_ But you have before, haven’t you? That once, just for a second… _

_ Did you really do that, though? Or did you dream it? _

_ No, you did, you just could never admit to yourself that you did it or why, could you?  _

“Eds?”

Richie’s voice gave him the confidence he needed. He turned his body to better face him, one hand traveling up to rest on the other man’s cheek. The brightness in Richie’s eyes turned into surprise, and maybe a little bit of panic as he looked at him, his breathing becoming obviously fast. 

“Eddie…” he whispered.

Eddie still said nothing, trying to steel himself for what he was about to do. He probably couldn’t have stopped himself at this point even if he wanted to, which was good because he really  _ didn’t  _ want to. He brought his face closer, still gently touching Richie’s cheek as he closed the space between them and pressed their lips together softly. If he’d had any lingering doubts regarding how he felt about Richie, they disappeared immediately. This was  _ it _ . This was definitely what a real kiss was supposed to feel like. 

The whole thing probably only lasted about five seconds, but once their lips had parted and Eddie was looking into Richie’s eyes again, he could see that had been more than enough time to completely wreck him. The other man was breathing hard, his mouth open and his eyes almost black as he looked at him in utter shock. 

“E-eds?” Richie’s voice was broken, cracking audibly in the middle of the one syllable as he briefly ran his tongue along his bottom lip, as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Eddie brushed his thumb delicately across his cheek, leaning in for a second kiss before he could stop to think, this one a little longer and a little deeper. He could have gone on forever, but Richie’s hands gently pushing him away put an unwelcome stop to it. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?”

Eddie let go of his cheek and bit his lip, suddenly anxious that maybe he’d just made yet another mistake. “I… I’m sorry, I just… I've wanted to.. for a long…”

“You’re married,” Richie pointed out. 

“Barely,” replied Eddie with an uncomfortable wince at the mention of Myra. 

“Fair. You’re also drunk.”

“This isn’t like New Years,” Eddie said quickly, and the shock in Richie’s eyes at this sentence was unmistakable. 

“W-what?” he stammered out. 

“I didn’t remember that kiss for a long time,” Eddie explained in a rush, desperate for Richie to know just how serious he was. “And when I did, I thought I’d dreamed it, or maybe I just hoped that, because I wasn’t ready to… to deal with…” The rest of the words died on his lips before he could actually say them, but Richie seemed to get the picture all the same. 

“Fuck,” Richie whispered. 

“Can… can I kiss you again?” Eddie asked timidly. He didn’t know how he was going to live if Richie said no, but fortunately, that wasn’t an issue. Richie hesitated for only a few seconds before he surged forward and crashed their lips back together desperately, taking Eddie by surprise. Eddie automatically kissed him back, his body taking over as if it knew exactly what to do even if his brain didn’t quite. Which, he supposed, made a lot of sense. Kissing Richie felt as natural as if he’d been doing it for years, not at all like any other kiss he’d ever experienced, which had always felt like something he just had to endure until it was over. 

This kiss was a different entity altogether. It was tender, so loving, yet somehow full of fire and hunger at the same time, very obviously the end result of years of mutual pining. The world suddenly made much more sense, like he’d finally found a missing piece to a puzzle he hadn’t known he was building. 

He slid his tongue briefly along Richie’s bottom lip without intending to. The tiny, desperate moan it produced from the other man must have flipped an invisible switch somewhere in him, because he suddenly felt a burning need to be as close to Richie as humanly possible. He broke from their kiss just long enough to climb on top of him, placing his knees on either side of him and gracelessly trying to peel Richie’s jacket off. 

“Jesus Christ, is this thing glued on?” he complained, the alcohol rendering him too uncoordinated to complete the task. Richie gaped up at him, his lips cherry red and his eyes as wide as dinner plates behind his slightly fogged glasses as he seemed to be mentally processing what was happening. He shrugged the jacket the rest of the way off himself, staring captivated as Eddie practically ripped off his own hoodie and tossed it onto the floor. 

“That’s better,” Eddie murmured, his body suddenly feeling hot as fire when Richie placed his hands around his waist to hold him steady. He leaned back down into another kiss, this one even deeper and more desperate than the last, one hand reaching up to card his fingers through Richie’s unruly hair. He felt Richie’s fingers playing at the hem of his shirt, clearly hesitant to go any further.

“S’ok,” he murmured against Richie’s lips, his mouth briefly wandering over to just below the other man’s ear to press a kiss to the hot skin there. Richie let out a whine, his hands finally slipping up underneath Eddie’s shirt. His fingers explored him curiously as their lips met once more, and Eddie felt his jeans becoming increasingly tighter with each passing moment. He chanced a glance down at Richie’s lap out of curiosity (and, ok, maybe a little bit of hope), and quickly discovered that he definitely wasn’t the only one. 

He didn’t know exactly what led to what he said next. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or his sudden desperation to get even closer to Richie and make up for years of wasted time. Perhaps it would also be fair to assume that it was the alcohol still in his system, and most likely it was a combination of all three factors. 

Regardless, the next words out of his mouth both surprised him and felt like a natural next step at the same time. 

“Richie,” he whispered against the other man’s mouth, breaking from the kiss to cup his face in both hands and look him in the eyes. 

“Yeah?” Richie barely managed to squeak out, his eyes blown black and his glasses slightly askew as he bit his lip and met Eddie’s gaze. 

Eddie hesitated for a second, but desire ultimately won out over caution. “Bedroom?” he said timidly, unsure what Richie’s reaction would be, but relieved when the other man let out several heavy breaths, kissed him once more, and stood up off the couch, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him eagerly in the direction of the bedroom. Everything was a blur for a while after that, a frenzy of hungry kisses and disappearing clothes until Richie finally pressed Eddie softly down onto the bed, his lips wandering lazily from his mouth to his neck and down to his chest. Eddie let out small moans at the contact, every nerve on fire as Richie’s warm hands and lips delicately explored his body as if it were a holy artifact he’d been searching for for years. 

“Eds?” he said quietly in between soft kisses to Eddie’s collarbone. 

“Hmm?”

Richie stopped what he was doing and looked down at him with hooded eyes. “I, um… can I tell you something?”

Eddie nodded, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of Richie’s face. “Of course.”

Richie took a deep breath. “This might be the worst time to mention this but I just, um… I’ve never done this before. Like, any of this. With anybody.”

Eddie was only slightly taken aback at this revelation. Before recently the thought of Richie having sex with anyone else had rarely, if ever, crossed his mind. He supposed that he’d assumed, with him being a celebrity, it would have at least happened once or twice and Richie had just never mentioned it for obvious reasons, but the more he thought about it, the more sense this unexpected confession made. For all his crude talk, deep down, Richie wasn’t the kind of person who would be into casual sex, and Eddie knew it. 

Which, obviously, made their current situation even more momentous.  _ Jesus Christ, I’m going to be his first. _

“That’s, uh… that’s ok,” said Eddie awkwardly, unsure how else to respond. “I mean, neither have I. With a man, I mean.” He thought he saw Richie wince slightly at the implication, a sentiment Eddie shared a full thousand percent. 

“I just wanted you to know because I really don’t want to fuck this up for either of us,” Richie continued, tracing gentle circles onto the top of Eddie’s chest with his finger. “Like, I want this to be amazing, but I might not be any good at it, you know?” He looked so vulnerable that Eddie’s heart nearly burst with emotion as he pulled Richie back down into a heated kiss that he hoped would settle his fears at least a little bit. 

“It’ll be perfect,” he assured him. “Because it doesn’t have to be.”

“Well, that’s good, cause I’m gonna tell you right now that  _ perfect  _ is a pretty strong word that I cannot guarantee,” Richie quipped. 

“Ok, stop before you ruin the romance,” laughed Eddie. Richie’s face grew serious again, looking down at him with eyes full of love as he brushed a hand over Eddie’s cheek. 

“So, what do you want to do?” he asked. Eddie bit his lip, his eyes wandering from Richie’s face and down his toned body, pausing for a moment on the sizable bulge straining against his underwear that reminded him how tight his own had been for a while. He met Richie’s dark eyes again and swallowed as he stroked the other man’s arm. 

“I don’t think we have the supplies for what I  _ want _ to do,” he said. 

“What, you mean like… like c-condoms?” asked Richie, his voice audibly catching in his throat. 

“Well, yeah, what did you think I m- what are you doing?” asked Eddie as Richie rolled off of him and started rummaging around in the drawer of the small table beside the bed. He turned back to face Eddie after a moment, smiling cheekily as he held a box of condoms in one hand and a small container of lube in the other. 

“I knew these would come in handy for  _ something _ one day,” he said brightly. 

“Didn’t you literally just tell me you’re a virgin?” asked Eddie, smiling in spite of himself at how cute and eager Richie looked, kneeling on his knees on top of the bed with sex supplies in both hands. 

“You do know virgins still jack off, right?” said Richie with a sarcastic eye roll. 

“With condoms?”

“At the risk of sounding like.. well… you, it’s less messy that way,” replied Richie. “I’m a busy man, I ain’t got the time to be cleaning jizz off various surfaces.”

“Say jizz again and this isn’t going to go any further because you’re going to kill my boner,” groaned Eddie. 

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” Richie apologized, settling back into his previous position and catching Eddie’s lips in a feather-light kiss as his fingers danced across the skin of his torso. 

“Mmm. It’s fine,” Eddie murmured against his lips. Their legs slotted together at just the right angle without warning, causing Eddie to moan and see stars as a jolt of electricity instantly shot through his entire body. 

“Who… who’s gonna…?” Richie attempted to ask in between desperate kisses pressed to the skin beneath Eddie’s jaw. Eddie’s eyes rolled back as he considered the unfinished question. The overly cautious part of himself would have volunteered in a minute if this were literally anybody else in the world, but Richie  _ wasn’t  _ just anybody. Eddie trusted him in a way he didn’t think he’d ever be able to trust another person. Plus, he really wanted this to be the complete opposite in every way from every laborious, chore-like experience he’d ever had with Myra. 

He reached up and gently cupped Richie’s chin in his hand, meeting his eyes earnestly. “Be gentle, ok?”

Richie’s eyes went fully black as he kissed him greedily. Eddie slowly sank into a whole other world of pleasure he’d never known in his life as Richie took his time, preparing him as slowly and gently as possible before he was finally ready to enter him. He silently asked Eddie for confirmation with his eyes, and Eddie’s tender kiss in response was all the affirmation that was needed. 

Wow.  _ Wow.  _ To be honest, Eddie had never quite gotten the appeal of sex, probably because every encounter he’d ever had before now felt more like a homework assignment than any sort of meaningful intimacy, and he’d always tried to get away with doing it as little as possible. 

This was completely different. This was raw and powerful and so, so emotional, the feeling of Richie moving inside of him making him aware of his own body and how much pleasure it could bring him in a way he’d never experienced before. He let out tiny whimpers as his nails dug into Richie’s back, each desperate moan out of the other man’s lips bringing a new burst of warmth throughout his entire being. Before long he was clinging desperately to him and screaming incoherently as he rode out his release into Richie’s hand. His sated body went pliant as Richie stuttered his hips and stilled inside of him for a moment, his lips finding Eddie’s ear and whispering a tender “I love you” as he slowly came down from his high. 

Eddie barely took in the details of the immediate aftermath, his head staying firmly in the clouds as Richie gently cleaned them both up and pulled the covers down. He drew Eddie into his arms and carefully threw the blankets back over them, and only when Eddie heard a small sniffle coming out of Richie did he finally descend back down to earth. 

“Are… are you crying?” he asked even though the answer was obvious. He reached a hand up to delicately brush a tear away with his thumb as Richie looked down at him with adoring eyes. 

“I know it’s cliche as fuck, Eds, but I just… that was so beautiful…  _ you’re _ so beautiful, and I just can’t… can’t deal with it, you know?”

Eddie smiled up at him. “I can’t believe Richie Tozier is such a sucker for cheesy romance,” he teased him, trying to lighten the moment, even though he felt much the same way as Richie did and they both knew it. “Those girls from earlier would be so fucking jealous right now.”

Richie snorted. “You’re such a shit.”

“I know,” said Eddie proudly, kissing a stray tear away and pressing his head to Richie’s chest contentedly.

“I love you,” he whispered. 

He let the thump of Richie’s heartbeat lull him to sleep, wishing they could stay like that for the rest of time; that nothing would ever dare to pop the happiness bubble they’d created for themselves on that day. 

He should have known better than to wish for something so impossible. 

*

_ “I love you.” _

The echo of Eddie’s words rang through Richie’s brain as his eyes slowly fluttered open. His bedroom had darkened in the hours since they’d fallen asleep, the only source of light now being the small sliver of moonlight that was peeking through the blinds of his window. He kept his eyes shut for a little while longer, trying to hang on to each and every single moment he could from this night. The softness of Eddie’s skin, the scent of his soap, the feel of his lips on his body and the sound of his voice moaning in pleasure. Just the very act of intimacy with him in a way Richie had never even dared to hope for and still didn’t believe he’d actually experienced. 

_ “I love you _ .” As long as Richie lived, he didn’t think he’d ever forget the sound of those words coming from Eddie’s lips, nor the warmth emanating from his head to his toes as he held the smaller man close and silently thanked whatever higher power had seen fit to bestow this gift upon him, even if it came about from less than ideal circumstances. 

_ “I love you.” _

He opened his eyes, blinking to adjust them to the darkness as he stirred, expecting to feel Eddie still in his arms. To his surprise, he felt nothing but blankets. He grabbed his glasses off the bedside table and turned on a lamp, panicking for a brief moment as he thought that maybe the entire day had been a dream after all. His fears were quickly quelled by the sound of Eddie’s voice coming from the direction of the living room, his tone hushed as though on the phone. 

“Jesus Christ, are you sure?” he heard him say. Ok, so he  _ was _ on the phone. “Well how long  _ have  _ you known?” Eddie continued, his voice getting louder even though he was still clearly trying to keep it down. “Have you even been to- No, I’m happy. Really. Ok. Ok. OK, yes, I’ll be back in a little while. Yes.  _ Yes _ , I love you. Bye.”

There was a beat of silence, and then the sound of a muffled scream, as if into a pillow. Richie leaped out of bed, quickly grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms out of his dresser and pulling them on as he made his way into the living room. He found Eddie sitting on the sofa, most of his clothes back on except for his jacket, clutching his phone in one hand and covering his eyes with the other. His shoulders heaved with tiny sobs, which immediately filled Richie with worry. 

“Eddie?” he said softly. He crossed over to the couch and sat down beside him, gingerly placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eds, look at me. Please?”

Eddie removed his hand from his eyes and looked over at him, his eyes red and puffy from crying. “I’m sorry if I woke you up,” he said apologetically. 

“Fuck that, Eddie, what’s the matter?” Richie demanded, trying to pull him into a hug that, to his surprise, Eddie resisted. “E-Eds?”

“That was Myra on the phone,” Eddie said flatly. Richie’s blood ran cold as he suddenly got a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t need for Eddie to actually say anything else for him to realize that whatever had happened during that phone conversation, it meant nothing good for the two of them. 

“You’re going back, aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question. The words hung in the air between them for a moment as Eddie refused to meet his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Eddie.  _ Why?? _ ”

“I told you, she always finds a way to reel me back in,” replied Eddie miserably. 

“That’s some fuckin bullshit, Eddie,” said Richie, frustration filling him to the core. “You don’t have to go back, she can’t make you. Stay with me, we’ll figure something out-“

“Richie…”

“We’ll get a restraining order against her if we have to,” Richie continued desperately. “You don’t have to go back, you really don’t-“

“Richie, I-“

“YOU DON’T,” Richie exclaimed. “Please, just… just stay.” He didn’t think he’d ever felt this level of distress before in his life, but the prospect of having Eddie pulled so cruelly away from him again so soon was more than he knew how to handle. 

“I  _ want _ to stay, Rich,” murmured Eddie through his tears. “You have no fucking idea how much I want to stay.”

“Then why can’t you?” Richie demanded. 

“It’s complicated,” said Eddie.

“What in the fuck is so complicated that you have to go back to that.. that… that woman?” Richie finished lamely. “Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can help you.”

Eddie’s face scrunched up, tears flowing faster as he looked away. “Trust me, you can’t.”

“Let me try!”

“Richie, please-“

“No, Eds, listen to me,” Richie pleaded, taking Eddie’s hands securely in both of his. “Please, listen. Have you noticed that this whole time you’ve been with me, you haven’t taken any pills? Or even reached for your inhaler? Not even once.”

“Rich-“

“If you go back to her every time she tries to suck you back in, you’re going to end up becoming exactly the kind of scared, dependent person your mother always tried to turn you into,” Richie continued. “Maybe not right away, maybe not for years, but it will happen. You’re not that person, Eds. I know you’re not that person, and I know that  _ you  _ know, deep down, that you’re not that person. One of the things I love most about you is that you’re braver than you think you are...” He trailed off, sensing in disappointment that his words were having little effect other than to make Eddie sob harder. He cautiously tried once again to pull him into an embrace, which the other man thankfully didn’t resist this time.

“I love you,” he said quietly into Eddie’s neck as he held him close. “Don’t go.”

Eddie squeezed him tight before pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. “I love you too, Richie. So much. So  _ fucking _ much, and I don’t want to go, but… it’s  _ because _ I’m not that person... that’s why I have to. It’s not just about me anymore. And you won’t want to deal with this, it’s way more than you signed up for.”

“Fucking try me, Eddie,” Richie said insistently. “There’s absolutely nothing you could tell me right now that would make me not want you or love you any less.”

“But this is my responsibility, I can’t drag you into this.”

“EDDIE.”

Eddie just looked at him, his eyes full of sorrow as Richie waited for him to say something. 

*

**2017**

**Devon**

**Today** 7:56 PM

_ Hey Stepdad In Training, they just came out to say that they’re almost finished with Dad and that he’s still doing really good. How far away are you? _


	8. The Man Who Comes Back Home To You

**New York City**

**October 2004**

“CUT! Alright, people, I think that’s it, that’s a wrap!”

 _Thank Christ,_ thought Richie, shivering through his character’s thin shirt in the chilly, early evening air. He’d spent the better part of the last six hours freezing his ass off, slowly losing his patience ounce by ounce as the on-location episode’s director kept making him and his co-stars redo the same damn scene over and over in the middle of the street. Crowds of curious onlookers watched from behind the roped off area that separated them from the actual filming. Most of them were wielding either a camera, a poster with one or more of the cast emblazoned on it, or both, and Richie fervently hoped that he and his coworkers weren’t going to be roped into a long autograph and photo session before being set loose, because he was tired, freezing, and most importantly, he had somewhere he urgently needed to be. 

No such luck, of course. At the urging of his manager to not look like the only asshole in the cast who refused to engage with fans, he spent close to another hour scribbling his initials and posing for pictures that he tried to look halfway excited to be in, although he wasn’t sure how successful he was. To be honest, he had never understood why people seemed to go so nuts for him in particular when there were certainly better looking, and likely funnier, members of the show’s cast, and he probably never would. Not that he wasn’t grateful, he was, but it still mystified him. 

“You’re, like, my favorite actor,” said one excited girl as she eagerly held out an enlarged character photo for him to sign. 

“Aw, man, you have terrible taste,” Richie joked as he finished scrawling out his autograph and capped his Sharpie. “Thank you, though.” The girl and her friends looked at each other and giggled as if this were the funniest thing they had ever heard. 

“You looking for a girlfriend?” one of the friends asked coyly. Richie caught the eye of his manager, who had heard the question and gave him a pointed look that Richie knew all too well meant _deflect but encourage, or else._

“Not right now, babe,” he replied, inwardly rolling his eyes at his manager’s nod of approval, even as he gave her a forced smile. He caught a glimpse of the time on someone’s digital watch and decided that enough had been enough for one evening. He had plans, goddammit, and he’d be damned if he was going to let any more time slip away from him. 

“Sorry, ladies, that’s all for me tonight,” he said apologetically as a chorus of disappointed groans rang out from the fans who had yet to be acknowledged. “Places to go, people to see. You know.” He slipped away before anyone could stop him, hurrying into his makeshift trailer and changing his clothes in record time. Within ten minutes he was behind the wheel of his rental car, amazingly managing not to break any traffic laws in his eagerness to arrive at his hotel. 

“And you bitches in high school Drivers Ed said I’d never be a good driver,” he muttered haughtily to himself once he’d parked in the hotel’s garage and keenly began making his way through the lobby and up toward his room. “You guys can all suck my balls.”

The elevator ride up to the fifth floor seemed to take forever and a day, but at long last, he was at the end of the long hallway and standing anxiously in front of the door to his room, looking himself up and down one more time before he took the key card out of his pocket. He slipped it into the slot on the door and slowly pushed it open, not sure what he expected to see when he peeked his head inside. He was more than a little let down when he didn’t see anything but an ordinary room, seemingly devoid of anything except his suitcases and the usual hotel furniture, but he stepped inside nonetheless, figuring that at the very least he had a few more minutes to fix himself up before-

The bathroom door swinging open stopped that train of thought in its tracks before it could reach a destination. Richie suddenly found himself pinned against the wall by a pair of warm, soft hands on his chest as the rest of the body they were attached to pressed itself close enough for him to take in the distinctive scent of soap and cologne. A pair of hooded brown eyes fixed themselves on him as he looked down at the face he would never get tired of seeing, no matter how long he lived. 

“You’re late,” said Eddie, clearly trying and failing to sound accusatory even though his eyes were dancing with excitement. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Richie apologized, taking Eddie’s hands in his own and leaning down for a quick kiss. “Filming ran late, and then they practically forced us to stay and sign posters and shit.”

“I figured as much, Mr. Hollywood,” Eddie teased him, shaking his hands free so he could reach up to wrap his arms around Richie’s neck. “What’s tomorrow look like for you?”

“Ugh, another scene, unfortunately. I’ve got a 9am call time,” Richie said, placing his hands around Eddie’s waist as it dawned on him just how little time they had. 

“And I have to leave pretty early too,” said Eddie sadly. “Myra thinks I’m at a work conference, I can’t overstay or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“So we only have tonight, then,” Richie lamented, stating the obvious with a discontented sigh as Eddie caught his lips in another, deeper kiss that simultaneously lifted Richie’s spirits to the moon and sent them crashing right back down again. This wasn’t the first time they’d secretly met up like this since that fateful weekend in LA; one of them could usually manage to sneak away for a day or so every couple of months. The unfairness of it all never got any easier or less painful, though. 

“Shhh,” Eddie whispered softly against his lips, bringing his hands down to cup Richie’s face. “Let’s not be sad tonight, ok? Please?” He kissed him passionately, the raw hunger radiating from his lips to Richie’s in a way that made Richie feel like he was drowning in the best possible way. 

“Let’s just be together,” Eddie pleaded, using his thumb to gently caress Richie’s cheek. Richie kissed him back, shoving down all of his negative feelings in an effort to not waste a single, precious second of time they had together before it was gone again for God only knew how long. 

He guided him backwards toward the bed, which Eddie had already preemptively stripped of its comforter, and carefully pushed him down onto the smooth sheets, their lips parting only long enough for Richie to eagerly climb on top of him. Shed clothes. Warm hands. The intoxicating feel of soft skin beneath his lips. Everything was a haze and yet so intricately detailed at the same time as Richie lost himself in the impossible bliss of being close to Eddie in the most intimate of ways, their bodies intertwining in a way that would always feel right regardless of how wrong the circumstances may have been. Every moan was beautiful music, every sharp dig of Eddie’s nails into his skin or whisper of Richie’s name on his lips like a prayer serving as a reminder that this was all too real. He buried his face in Eddie’s neck as they rode out their releases together, and when it was all over and they’d cleaned up, he silently pulled him close and held him tight, feeling their hearts beating in unison as he tried to forget the ever-nearing time when they would have to part ways yet again. 

“God, I’ve missed you so fucking much,” sighed Eddie, placing soft little kisses to Richie’s chest as his fingers delicately stroked his shoulder. 

“I know,” Richie agreed, biting his lip to try to keep at bay the tears he could feel rising up behind his eyes. He didn’t want to spoil what little time they had left together by crying, so he pushed it all down for the thousandth time and used one finger to tip Eddie’s face upward, kissing him so deeply that he hoped that Eddie could feel in it just how much love he had for him. How much love he _still_ had to give him, if only their circumstances were different, if it wasn’t for that-

_No. Stop that, stop it right now. It isn’t their fault, and they’re a part of Eddie, so just. Fucking. Stop._

He tried, but he found it difficult to stop. He made the mistake of letting his thoughts run away with him, wallowing in his own sorrow long after Eddie had drifted off to sleep while still holding onto him like a life preserver. He didn’t realize just how much time had actually passed, until he eventually felt Eddie stir in his arms and look up at him curiously. 

“Rich?” he said in a rough, sleepy voice. “You’re still awake?”

“Huh?” murmured Richie, glancing over at the clock beside the bed and letting out a surprised breath. “Jesus. Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You ok?” asked Eddie, kissing his collarbone lightly, the contact almost setting off the repressed tears again. Richie hesitated, wondering if he should speak up, if he should really go through with telling him what he’d spent so many hours thinking about, or if he should just repress it back down, never say a word, and hope that their beautiful love never turned into the horrible resentment he feared it might. 

No. No, he couldn’t risk that happening. He had to let it out, no matter how much it was going to hurt. 

“Rich?” Eddie pressed quietly. 

Richie took a deep breath. “Actually, Eds… I, um… I think we need to have a talk.”

Even in the semi-dark he could see Eddie’s eyes widen, and he could definitely feel how fast the other man’s heart started to beat at the sound of those words. “About…?” Eddie asked, his voice already cracking with emotion, which made Richie hate himself all the more for what he was about to say. 

“First of all,” he began, sitting up in bed and gently guiding Eddie to do the same before turning on one of the bedside lamps. “You know that I love you. Right? You know that?” His eyes searched Eddie’s, which were clouded over with apprehension. 

“I know,” Eddie answered with a nod. “I love you, too.”

“And what I’m about to say…. it’s not because of anger or anything, that’s not where this is coming from, ok?” Richie continued, his stomach hurting at the sight of the sudden fear in Eddie’s eyes.

“You’re scaring me,” said Eddie nervously. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie apologized, taking one of the other man’s hands and squeezing it comfortingly. “Look, Eds… every time we do this, every time we meet like this and we have these nights together… I feel… God, you have no idea. I feel so much, so fucking much, and it’s all wonderful and incredible, and it feels so good to be close to you in that way, and I almost can’t even believe it’s real, you know? Like… I love you _that_ much.”

“But?” Eddie prompted him, clearly waiting for the other shoe to fall. 

“But,” Richie pressed on, rubbing his thumb across the skin of Eddie’s hand anxiously. “Once it’s over and you’re gone, and we’re apart again, I… it almost feels like… fuck, I don’t even know. Like part of my soul just got ripped out of my body. Actual, physical pain. I don’t know if you experience that too, but I fucking do.”

Eddie closed his eyes, his chin quivering as he nodded. “I do. Almost exactly,” he admitted in a shaky voice as he held on tighter to Richie’s hand, as though he were afraid if he let it go, it would disappear. 

“And then,” Richie said, trying to make his voice as calm and soothing as possible to soften the blow of his words. “It takes forever for me to feel even a little bit better, to be in an ok place where it doesn’t hurt as much that we aren’t together, but just when that happens, well… here you come again,” he said with a shrug. “And we’re right back where we started, and the whole cycle starts all over. And I don’t know how much longer I can go through that cycle, Eds. I really don’t. I’m human.”

Tears spilled out of Eddie’s eyes, each one a fresh punch to Richie’s gut. “Are you… is this a… a breakup?” he asked, audibly choking on a sob at that last word.

“No!” Richie exclaimed insistently. “No, not exactly,” he assured him, pulling him into a tight embrace, almost wishing he’d never said anything at all, even though he knew it had to be done. “I don’t want to never talk to each other again or anything, I still want to be like we were before. I just… I think we rushed in before we even knew what we were doing, and we should put the brakes on _this_ part of it. For a while. Until we know where we’re going. You know?”

Eddie dissolved into sobs in reply, his arms tightening around him desperately. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered quietly in between sniffles. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Richie stressed. “It’s really not. I understand why things are this way, and we can’t change it right now.”

“But I love you.”

“I know,” said Richie soothingly. “But think about it. Ok? Just.. think. The baby is going to be here in, what, another month? We’ll barely be able to keep this up as it is, let alone with the added stress for you, especially. You aren’t going to be able to just go off for a weekend when you have a kid to think about. I just think that if we go on like _this_ , as it is now, what we have is going to turn bad and resentful on both sides. Really, _really_ bad. And I don’t want that, Eds. I don’t fucking want that for us.”

There was a silence for several moments, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle from both men, until Eddie disengaged from their embrace to wipe his eyes and look at him questioningly. 

“Does this mean you want to start dating other men?” he asked bluntly, his voice filled with obvious dread as it formed the question. 

“ _What_?” Of all the questions Richie had expected Eddie to ask during this conversation, that hadn’t even made the list. 

“Because I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he continued in a rush, not quite meeting Richie’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s not fair to expect you to just sit around and wait for me, so if-“

“Eds,” Richie interrupted him, tilting his chin upwards with one finger. “Eds, look at me.” He waited until the sorrowful brown eyes were fixed on him before he continued. “I need you to believe me when I tell you that other men are the furthest thing from my mind, like, 99.9% of the time. I’m usually thinking about work, and if I’m thinking about men at all, it’s almost always you.”

Eddie frowned. “ _Almost_ always?”

Richie nodded seriously. “Yes, I won’t lie, sometimes I’m thinking about Heath Ledger.”

Eddie let out the laugh Richie was hoping for, a small smile appearing on his lips in spite of the tears. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and gave Richie a serious look once the moment had passed. “Are you sure about this?” he asked in a quiet murmur. 

Richie sighed and casually reached a hand up to brush a lock of hair out of Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Don’t you kind of agree? Even just a little bit?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Eddie cautiously leaned in, gently and wordlessly pressing their lips together in a way that told Richie that everything was going to be alright. “I do love you,” he whispered sadly as their foreheads met. 

“I love you too,” said Richie. “I always will.”

“Don’t give up on us,” Eddie added, one hand tenderly cupping Richie’s cheek. “Because I’m not.”

“This isn’t giving up, this is just protecting what we have,” Richie pointed out. “Until we can do it right.”

“I guess.”

Can you do me a favor, though?” Richie added, leaning in for one more quick kiss. “When the baby comes?”

Eddie looked at him quizzically. “What’s that?”

Richie leaned over the side of the bed and opened one of the suitcases he had stashed against the wall. He rooted around in it until he found what he was looking for: a small, blue and white plush bunny with a ribbon around its neck and gingham accents on the ears and feet. He fluffed it out a little and presented it to Eddie, who immediately started crying all over again. 

“Will you make sure little Macaroni gets this?” Richie asked, offering a small, nervous smile, which he was relieved that Eddie returned through his tears. The other man didn’t say anything in response, but the earnest kiss and tight hug said everything that was needed. 

_God, please let this be the right thing that we’re doing here._

*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_IT’S A BOY!_ **

_Devon Richard Kaspbrak_

_November 30, 2004_

_6 lb, 12 oz_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*

_12-07-04_

_From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_To: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_Dear Richie,_

_Look, I know that I haven’t called or written in a little while, but it’s not because I’m mad about how we ended things or anything. I promise, it’s not. I’m not going to lie to you, I just feel really weird going back to how our relationship used to be before we… well. You know. It feels almost like a lie. It IS a lie. I know this was the best thing to do for right now, but I also miss you so fucking much that it hurts. I feel like a terrible person because I love my son, I do, but I feel like I’m being forced to choose one love over another. Does that make sense? That probably doesn’t make sense. I don’t know where I’m going with this letter, to be honest, except to tell you that I think of you every single day and that I still love you. I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew that._

_I’m attaching a picture of Devon with his bunny you gave him. Everyone says he looks just like me, what do you think?_

_Love (ALWAYS),_

_Eddie <3 _

_*_

_12-08-04_

_From: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_Dear Eds,_

_People are so rude, I don’t think that bunny looks like you at all! ;) I’m kidding, I’m kidding. For real, no shit, that kid does kind of look like you. It’s the little button nose. Also, I can’t fucking believe you chose Richard as his middle name. What has this poor child done to you?? (No, but really, how the fuck did you manage to sneak that one past Moira? Was she hopped up on birth drugs or some shit?)_

_Don’t think I don’t miss the fuck out of you too, Eds. I probably miss you more than you miss me, since you have a baby to distract you. I know it’s going to be hard to scale back to being friends, but if there’s one thing those crazy-ass psychic fortune tellers in LA have taught me, it’s that the universe usually finds a way to make everything ok. Granted, in our case the universe seems to be a lazy piece of shit, but what else do we have to do except have faith? Wow… you know what? I think that’s the lamest fucking thing I’ve ever written. But my point still stands. We’ll find a way, Spaghetti. Let’s just live life for now and see what happens. Be a good dad to that little Macaroni noodle. And never forget that I love you._

_Love,_

_Richie_

_*_

June 6, 2005

Entertainment 

**_UPCOMING SEASON TO BE LAST FOR ‘LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS’- REPORT_ **

*

_June 9, 2005_

_Dear Devon,_

_I guess this is sort of the first entry in your baby journal? I know most parents probably start baby books while their kid is still in the womb, but I hope you’ll forgive the fact that I kind of had a delayed reaction to all things parenting. That sounds bad, I’m sorry. By the time you’re old enough to read this, hopefully you’ll also be able to understand some of the reasons why. The important thing is that, now that the reality of being an actual FATHER has hit me, I swear, I love you to the moon and back. And I want to have some kind of record of your babyhood that’s just for you, when you’re older. Videos and pictures are nice and all, but your dad has always been a journal guy. They seem more personal, I don’t know. I guess I kind of want you to understand my thought process a little bit? Writing things down sometimes helps me put stuff in perspective. Maybe that’s something you’ll pick that up from me later. Or not, that’s cool, too. I want you to be your OWN person and do what YOU want, Bunny. Always. I wasn’t raised to think that way or to be myself a lot of the time, and I’m only just now starting to understand how to do that. I don’t want you to struggle with that like I did. Anyway, enough with the mushy crap, here’s where you’re at:_

_You’re six months old right now. You’re almost sitting up on your own. Not quite, but you’re getting there. We’ve started you on big boy food, but you hate most of it. That’s ok, it’s some nasty shit. I’d hate it too. You like it when I read you the Berenstain Bears at bedtime, and you reeeeally don’t like when Mommy does it. You don’t really like when Mommy does anything with you, actually. It has to be Daddy most of the time, or you cry. A lot. You love listening to Dolly Parton in the car. And your favorite toy is your little blue bunny rabbit, which is why I call you Bunny. You wanna know a secret? That toy bunny came from your dad’s oldest friend in the world, Richie. Don’t tell your mom. Fun fact, Bunny? Your mom chose your first name, but I got to choose your middle name. I chose Richard because Richie has always been everything I would like to be. He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s real, and he speaks his mind, and that’s how I want you to be. Don’t tell Richie I said that, though, or he will never shut up about it._

_Anyway, right now you’re trying to grab my pen and eat it, so I guess we’ll cut off here for now. Love you, Bunny._

_Love,_

_Daddy_

*

_11-24-05_

_From: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_Happy Thanksgiving, Spaghetti! I’ll probably try to call you this weekend, but I just wanted to shoot this email off really quick to let you know I’ll be thinking about you the entire day as I’m enduring Thanksgiving with my extended family. At least it’s only for a day and a half before I head back to CA to start filming that new movie. Let’s hope it leads somewhere, now that I won’t have the show anymore._

_Also, I hope you don’t mind, but since little Macaroni’s birthday is soon and I don’t know shit about presents, I kind of started a little college fund for him. I mean, it doesn’t have to be for college. He could take the money out at 18 and use it on hookers and blow, I suppose (I’M KIDDING, I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH). But it’ll be there for him. He IS my namesake and all, so it’s the least I can do for him. Ok, I’m gonna cut this short now because my mom is yelling something about cranberry sauce. I’ll call you!_

_I love you,_

_Richie_

_*_

_11-24-05_

_From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_To: Trashmouth68@aol.com_

_Richie, oh my god… I don’t even know what to say. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you. I’m sure Devon will appreciate it when he’s older. Once he grows out of only appreciating his Bert and Ernie rattle, the TV remote, loose change from my pocket, and my empty inhalers, which he's convinced are toys._

_We aren’t really doing anything today for Thanksgiving. Not unless you count my in-laws coming over and criticizing every little aspect of my parenting, even though Myra has literally not left her computer the entire day, (or most days, lately), so if anything it’s only me who’s doing ANY parenting here. And it’s days like this when I just… REALLY miss you. Painfully so. I’ll tell you more when you call. Try to call at night, Myra is never around after 7:00, so I can actually talk to you._

_Love,_

_Eddie <3 _

_*_

_02-05-06_

_From: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_Hey, Eds_

_I know we just hung up the phone, but I feel like I wanted to let you know why I sounded so weird. The truth is, I had nothing to do today, so I finally caught a showing of Brokeback Mountain. I don’t know if you’ve seen it yet. Maybe not, because you’re busy and you have a kid and all, so I won’t give anything away, but… I don’t know. It had me feeling some kind of way, and once it was over I just… really wanted to hear your voice. So if it seemed like I was acting strange and didn’t have a lot to say, it’s only because I was focused on listening to you talk. That’s all I wanted to say. Have a good night, Spaghetti._

_Love,_

_Richie_

_*_

_07-13-06_

_From: BigBillyD@aol.com_

_To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_So um… what the hell, I’ll just ask it. Stan and I noticed that Myra’s MySpace page no longer lists a relationship, and we’re nosy so please tell me what the deal is? I’m your best friend, I should be informed of these things!_

_Love ya,_

_Billy_

_*_

_07-14-06_

_From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_To: BigBillyD@aol.com_

_I might as well tell SOMEBODY, since I honestly am not bothered by it. Myra’s gone, to put it in a nutshell. And if that sounds unbelievable to you, that’s nothing compared to how much I still don’t believe it._

_Apparently, she met some guy online awhile back who lives somewhere in, I don’t know, East Who The Fuck Knows, Europe, and they’ve been in a secret relationship for like a year now. Two weeks ago, I come home from work and I catch her packing to run off to be with him, which is FINE, I honestly don’t care. BUT, she’s also trying to take Devon with her. And Bill, I swear, you know how I am about confrontation. I fucking hate it. I AVOID IT. But oh my god, I don’t know where it came from, but a backbone came out of nowhere, and I told her she could go wherever she wants, I GLADLY welcome a fucking divorce. But that if she’s planning to co-parent this child with me, because he’s MY kid too, it’s going to be within the United States until he’s much older. I’m not being separated from my son, let alone not know where he even is for huge stretches of time. Seriously, fuck that._

_So I figure, she’s not gonna relinquish control over Devon that easily, right? I was fully prepared for a fight. I was ready to call a lawyer, get a court order, whatever it took to keep my kid with me. Right? WRONG. She just packed her shit and LEFT, and we haven’t heard from her since. I feel… I don't know. I feel a lot of things, but mostly I feel free. Fucking FREE. Like, for real, this feels like a miracle I never thought would happen. I know at some point she’ll probably be back to see Devon, and it’ll be a whole thing with lawyers and family courts, but for now she doesn’t seem to even have plans to come back. And if that day didn’t come for quite awhile, I’m not going to worry about it._

_And since I know what your next question is going to be, no. I haven’t told Richie. I want to, but he’s busy with finishing his movie and starting pre-production on another, and I just don’t think I should be bugging him with this right now. I’ll tell him soon, though, so could you tell Stan not to say anything? Please?_

_Eddie_

_*_

_September 30, 2006_

_Dear Devon,_

_You’re 22 months old today, Bunny! Pretty soon you’re gonna be two, and I’m NOT ready for you to be that big, but I’m happy to be watching you grow into your own little person. Since last month, you decided you actually do like peas and hate carrots. You love sliced apples. You have a whole list of words you like to say, and you gave me a little scare the other day when you… well, you mispronounced the word ‘truck’, let’s just put it that way._

_You still like Dolly Parton, and you even try to dance to ‘9-5’ sometimes, but you’ve somehow also decided that Whitney Houston is just the best thing since mashed bananas. Your blue bunny is still your favorite toy, only now it has a name. You call it Icky, which I guess is appropriate since you also haven’t allowed me to wash it in forever. Daddy’s trying reeeeally hard not to break out in hives from all the germs that are probably on that thing, but everyone assures me it’s helping your immune system so I guess I’m not going to pick that particular battle. I’m trying, I’m REALLY trying to loosen up with the whole germs and sickness thing when it comes to you, because I don’t want to become like your grandmother and have you hate me when you’re older. You had a fever last week, and I had to fight so much inner angst over how much medicine to give you, and not give you too much because that’s exactly how MY mother would have done it. It’s hard, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to learn. But I’m giving it my best shot._

_You know, Bunny, I thought it would be harder, it being just the two of us now, but actually? I think we’re doing ok. It does terrify me sometimes. A lot, actually. Ok, most of the time. But on the whole? I think I’m doing a pretty damn good job. Now, the question is…. What do I do about Richie? I’m not going to lie to you, I love you and I wouldn’t trade you for anything, but I have ALWAYS wished that I’d married Richie instead of your mom. And now it’s been so long since I’ve actually seen him that I have no idea where we still stand. Or how we’d even make it work when he spends so much time traveling all over for his career. Love is complicated, Bunny. You’ll learn that one day when you’re bigger._

_But you don’t care about that right now, because you’re a toddler. And at this very moment, you’re much more interested in chewing on Icky’s ear. Which is GROSS, by the way. Please use your pacifier, that’s what it’s for._

_Love,_

_Daddy_

_*_

_12-28-06_

_From: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_Hey Eds, are you ok? You’ve been radio silent for a while now, and Stan keeps asking me specifically about you, for some reason. Is everything alright? Because I’m in New York for a while after the first of January, I can be over your way really quick if you need me. Reply to this so I can stop worrying, you little turd._

_Love,_

_Anxious Richie_

_*_

_12-29-06_

_From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_To: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_We’re ok, Rich, really. But if you’re going to be in New York for a while, maybe we could meet up sometime. You know, just… just as friends. Only if you feel like you want to. Let me know. No pressure._

_Also, can I ask you a question? I caught you on Late Night the other night, and… was that our arcade photo in your suit pocket??? I thought it looked familiar and I couldn’t quite tell because I could only see the top._

_Love,_

_Eds_

_*_

_12-29-06_

_From: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_It was our photo, yeah. This might sound fucking stupid, but I keep it on me almost every time I’m performing or appearing on a show. It’s kind of my good luck charm, because you’re the one little shit who never once did anything BUT encourage me to pursue this godforsaken clown career._

_Also, what the fuck do you mean do I WANT to meet up? Of course I do. I’ll call you when my flight lands on the 1st and we’ll figure out a time, ok? I love you and I miss you._

_Love,_

_Richie_

*

_12-29-06_

_From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_To: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_Hey Richie,_

_Can you call me once you’re free tonight? I have something to tell you._

_Eds <3 _

*

**January 2007**

Richie slowly sipped on his coffee, his legs crossed in the too small cafe chair as he pretended to be engrossed in the magazine open on the table. He had grabbed it from his hotel lobby on his way out the door that morning, paying little attention to its subject matter, so he had less than zero idea what the article in front of him was even about. Probably ten different ways to please one’s man in bed, or maybe diet tips for spring. It barely mattered, because he wasn’t reading it anyway. He was too busy checking the time on his watch and anxiously scanning every face in the crowd around him, searching for the one familiar one in a sea of lookalike drones. 

_He should have been here forty-five minutes ago, is he ok?_

_Maybe he got lost._

_No, he couldn’t have. He knows where this place is, we met up here once before. I think._

_But that was years ago, so maybe he did get lost._

_Or maybe he changed his mind. Or Mindy came back from her European love cave and told him he couldn’t go and she’s holding him captive in a-_

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind him; a voice he would recognize anywhere, even if the rest of his memories were to somehow be completely wiped out. “Is this seat taken?”

“Eds!” Richie exclaimed excitedly, his heart doing joyous acrobatics in his chest. He turned around in preparation to hug him, or maybe cover him in kisses, but what he saw was not quite what he was expecting, and so he was stopped dead in his tracks, his mind racing to process the sight in front of him. Eddie was standing there, alright, looking just as beautiful as ever, still managing to make Richie’s insides turn to jelly with no effort at all, even after so many years. _That_ was expected. 

However, the unexpected part was that he wasn’t alone. In his arms was a small, squirmy child that looked almost exactly like a miniature, scaled down version of Eddie, right down to the dark hair, the judgemental brown eyes, and the scattering of freckles across his nose. The green ribbon attached to the other end of the pacifier in his mouth was clipped to the front of his blue denim overalls, and he clutched a ratty, worn stuffed bunny in one hand that Richie recognized immediately, because he had been the one who purchased it. 

“Hi, Richie,” said Eddie, his warm, home-like voice snapping Richie out of his disorientation. 

“Eds,” murmured Richie again, watching in awe as Eddie pulled out a chair and sat down, settling the baby in his lap and looking nervously across the table at him. 

“I’m sorry we were late,” Eddie apologized, gently guiding Devon’s eager hands away from the salt and pepper shakers on the table. “Bev was going to watch him for me, but she had to go into work at the last minute. And, well. It’s not easy to get anywhere on time when one of you is a toddler.” Devon frowned and dropped his toy into Eddie’s lap as he tried grabbing for the shakers again, rewarded for his efforts by being swung expertly over to Eddie’s other knee, further away from his target. The boy let out a frustrated grunt as he desperately tried to reach the tempting objects, but his little arms weren’t long enough to reach. He began to cry, which prompted Eddie to wrap his arms around him in a bear hug and kiss the top of his head. 

“Shhh, you can’t have those, Bunny,” he said soothingly as he reached into his pocket for a small, plastic bag of Cheerios. “Here’s your cereal, ok?”

“Wow. That… that’s a whole ass child,” said Richie with a clear of his throat, unsure of what else to say in the moment. He had been utterly unprepared for this meeting to include a third party, but he was trying to keep the mood light. Both men knew exactly why they were there, but Richie also knew Eddie well enough to know that he wasn’t going to get to the actual point until they’d gotten the usual small talk out of the way. 

“Wow, nothing gets by you, does it?” said Eddie sarcastically, a smile playing on his lips as he bounced a more cheerful Devon lightly on his knee. 

“You know what I mean,” retorted Richie playfully. “I was expecting him to be, you know. Tinier, more compact. Travel sized, if you will.”

“Oh, _he_ is travel sized,” said Eddie with a roll of his eyes. “It’s all of his shit that isn’t.” He gestured to the back of his chair, and Richie noticed for the first time that Eddie and the baby were accompanied by a garishly colored diaper bag that was larger than most carry-on suitcases, and looked just about as heavy. 

“Jesus, what do you carry in there?” Richie asked, genuinely curious. “Does HE go in there when you aren’t carrying him?”

“What the fuck, why would… Please never have children.”

“It’s a joke, Eds. You ever hear of those?” Richie chided him, still trying to get over just how much Eddie and his son looked alike. “He looks _just_ like you, it’s honestly scary,” he said in disbelief, his eyes shifting from one to the other as he sipped his coffee. “Are you sure you didn’t just clone yourself?”

“Icky,” said Devon as he fixed his dark brown eyes on Richie, one hand casually holding a single Cheerio away from his mouth like a wizened old man holding a cigarette. 

“Yeah, little dude, you’re right,” said Richie with a shrug. “I didn’t exactly have time to wash my hair this morning so yeah, I probably am a little icky.”

Eddie snorted. “He’s talking about his bunny,” he explained. “Icky is right here,” he said brightly to Devon, handing him the stuffed rabbit with the hand that wasn’t holding the baby in place. 

Devon furrowed his little brows, as if Eddie had just spoken to him in ancient Sanskrit. “ _Icky_ ,” he insisted, setting the rabbit defiantly on the table and pointing directly at Richie. 

“Nah, dude, it’s not the bunny, he’s just calling me gross,” said Richie, amused. “Which is fair.”

Eddie looked perplexed for a moment, as if he were trying to work out a math problem, until his eyes widened, a sudden realization coming over his face like a lightbulb turning on. “Oh!” he exclaimed, one hand reaching up to cover his mouth in disbelief. “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot!”

“What? What’s going on?” Richie asked, frowning curiously as he watched an amused smile spread across Eddie’s lips. 

“He’s trying to say _Richie_!” Eddie said with a snort of laughter. 

“Excuse me?”

“Yes!” said Eddie gleefully. “Oh my god… I’ve told him before that _Richie_ gave him that plushie, and he’s seen you on TV, so he must have recognized… oh, my smart little bunny!” he squealed, holding Devon up so he could give him a big kiss on the forehead. “Who’s my smart boy?”

“Icky.”

“I _have_ been told I’m a smart boy, once or twice,” Richie quipped, his heart inexplicably pounding faster at the sight of Eddie being so soft with his child, a sight he never thought he’d actually see, but which he wouldn’t exactly have minded seeing a lifetime of, now that he had. 

“Wow, because you can recognize your own name?” Eddie retorted without skipping a beat as he set Devon back onto his lap. 

“You’re hilarious, Spaghetti. You ever consider taking that act on the road?”

“I… don’t have a clever reply to that right now, but you are gonna be _so_ sorry at about 3am when I finally come up with one and text it to you,” said Eddie haughtily. 

“I’ll be waiting with bells on,” promised Richie warmly, peering at the two of them over the rim of his coffee cup. “So,” he said, trying to steer the conversation in the direction they were both waiting for it to go. “Marla skipped town, huh.” He still had a hard time believing that this momentous miracle had actually occurred, so he figured he would start off by having Eddie affirm the news one more time. 

“Like her ass was on fire,” muttered Eddie, rolling his eyes as he successfully used one hand to keep Icky from falling to the cafe floor. 

“And she didn’t fight you at _all_ over taking little Macaroni with her?” Richie asked incredulously. 

Eddie shook his head. “I mean, she probably would have if her flight wasn’t leaving _that_ night, but even if she had, it wasn’t going to happen without lawyers involved. I’ve never stood up for anything that hard before, Richie,” he added, his cheeks flushing with pride as he retold his story of triumph. “But the minute I realized I would probably never see Devon if he went with her, it was like… you know what? No. I’ll lay down and take a lot of things-“

“Yeah, you will,” Richie joked without thinking. Eddie glared at him. 

“Really, Rich?”

“Sorry,” Richie conceded with a smile. “Go on.”

“But this is one thing I’m _not_ going to take,” Eddie declared, wrapping his arms around Devon just a bit more snugly. “Once the divorce is final we can arrange a custody plan and she can see him all she wants _here_ , but I’ll be damned if I’m never going to see my son because she dragged him with her to a whole other continent. And you know what the icing on the cake is?” he added, the words tumbling out of him in a way that was starkly reminiscent of the old Eddie that Richie had always known in their youth. “It’s that she and Devon never even bonded that much. Not really, anyway. Like, she would hold him or whatever, and he would scream his head off until she put him down, and after a while as he got older, she just… _completely_ lost interest. I was the one doing 95% of the parenting by the time she left, anyway. I don’t think she ever even wanted a baby, she just wanted an anchor to hold me in place.”

“Christ,” Richie murmured, watching as Devon put his pacifier back in his mouth and stared across the table at him with curious eyes, the very echo of his father’s. “Poor little Macaroni.”

“It’s whatever, he’ll be ok,” Eddie assured him, placing a kiss to the top of Devon’s dark curls. He glanced over at Richie, clearing his throat nervously as he changed the subject. “Look, Richie, I… I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to like, rush us into anything, here. I waited a while to even tell you that Myra left because I had a hard time believing it was actually for good, and that I was really free of her.”

“Eddie, I-“

“No, really,” Eddie insisted. “I don’t want to do anything that’s going to put any kind of strain on us, and I know that you’re really busy these days with your career, so if it’s too much and you don’t want to pick up where we left off right now, or… or even any time soon, I will completely understand.” His tone of voice seemed to contradict his words, but he stayed resolute, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with a loose thread on Devon’s white shirt the only dead giveaway to how nervous he actually was. 

Richie stared at him for a moment, trying to translate all of those words in his mental Eddie-To-English converter. “So what you’re saying is that you want to take things slow?”

Eddie’s eyes softened from anxious to slightly relieved. “Well… I mean, only if _you_ want to. Besides, we _did_ kind of rush it the first time. We never got to do the whole awkward dating thing, which is like, half the experience, right?” He let out a nervous laugh, which was cut short out of necessity by Devon removing his pacifier from his own mouth and attempting to shove it into Eddie’s instead. 

Richie mulled his next words over in his mind carefully before he spoke. “Alright, Spaghetti, here’s the thing,” he said, leaning over the table with his hands clasped together. “I _am_ kinda busy for a while. I’m shooting this movie here in New York for a few months.”

“I know,” said Eddie. 

“But,” Richie continued. “Well, you know that the show was canceled, and I’m not doing any work in LA any time soon, so I gave up my apartment.”

“Really?”

“Yep. So, like… I guess that in between projects, I don’t actually have a real residence to go to,” said Richie, casually fiddling with his thumbs as he let the words sink into the air. “I’ll just be living out of hotels whenever I have long breaks. Unleeeesss…” He gave a dramatic pause and glanced over to see how Eddie was absorbing this news. _Great. Perfect. Alright, let’s reel him in._

“Unless,” he said again. “There was someplace that I could, you know… always go to whenever I’m not working? Just for a week or two here, maybe a month or so there, not all the time, but just a place to call home when I’m not being an incredibly busy movie star. You know any place like that, Eds?”

A knowing smile crept across Eddie’s face as he got the point. “As it happens, I think I might know a place _just_ like that,” he said pointedly. “It does come with a couple of roommates, though. One of them can be pretty loud when he’s cranky,” he added, giving Devon a little bounce in Richie’s direction. 

“Well, yes, but I hear that the other is a toddler,” said Richie. 

“Goddammit, I knew that was coming and I still walked right into it,” Eddie groaned. 

Richie laughed heartily. “So, what do you say to me joining you for about a month in the spring? Shooting wraps in March.”

Eddie’s face broke out into a happy grin that could have melted the coldest of winters. “We’ll be waiting for you,” he promised, reaching across the table to take one of Richie’s hands in his own. 

“Icky?” Devon inquired. 

“That’s right, Macaroni,” agreed Richie, using his free hand to gingerly pat the boy on the head. “Icky’s coming home.”


	9. Horizons That Are New To Us

**Spring 2007**

**Derry, ME**

“Well, this is it,” Eddie proclaimed as he finished turning his key in the lock and pushed the front door open. “Watch that middle step, it’s wobbly as fuck. I always carry Devon up and down because of it.”

“Down?” Devon repeated, batting insistently at Eddie’s shoulder until his father gently set him down just inside the door. 

“It doesn’t look _that_ wobbly,” replied Richie dismissively, taking a step onto it without caution and instantly tripping, sending the duffel bag in his hand careening to the ground with an undignified thump. 

“You were saying, dumbass?” said Eddie with an amused snort. 

“Boom!” added Devon with a high-pitched giggle. He had wrapped his arms around one of Eddie’s legs and was looking over at Richie with a big smile that almost perfectly matched his dad’s. 

“That’s right, Richie went boom!” replied Eddie in an exaggerated baby voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, both of you just laugh it up,” mumbled Richie, rolling his eyes as he collected his fallen bag and ascended the rest of the stairs without incident. He followed Eddie into the house, which instantly caused him to feel like he had just stepped into a time machine, just by how utterly dated everything looked. He had known this was Eddie’s childhood home, of course, so he wasn’t _quite_ sure what he’d expected it to look like, but almost everything within eyesight, from the walls to the living room furniture to the tiny glimpse of the kitchen he could see from the front hallway, looked like it hadn’t been touched _since_ his childhood. It struck him all of a sudden just how very little of Eddie’s personality was reflected in his own house, which gave him a weird sense of sadness. Hell, there was more evidence that Devon lived there, in the form of various toys and baby-proofing items scattered throughout the house, than there was that his father did.

“It’s like you just stepped back into 1985, right?” said Eddie, as though he’d read Richie’s mind. 

“I mean, yeah,” Richie answered truthfully as he tore his eyes away from the decor and focused them back onto the other man. “Kind of.”

“Up, please,” Devon interjected, reaching his arms up to yank on the bottom of Eddie’s sweatshirt.

“It’s ugly, you can say it,” Eddie said to Richie, picking Devon back up and balancing him on one hip. “My mom never changed anything in all the time she lived here, and I guess we just never thought about redecorating too much after she was gone. Myra would have just vetoed anything I tried to do, anyway.”

“How surprising,” said Richie sarcastically.

“Anyway,” Eddie continued, leading the way down the hallway. “That was the living room back there, obviously. This is the kitchen, and there’s a tiny dining room just off to the right.” He turned down a second hallway to the left of the kitchen, flicking a light switch on the wall as he went. “And down here is everything else. This is the bathroom,” he pointed out, gesturing toward the first door they passed. “And next to it is the guest room. Or, at least it is now, since I’ve cleared all of Myra’s craft shit out of there.”

Richie smiled. “Cool, now it’s my room,” he said, casually tossing his bag just inside the door. “I’ll go collect the rest of my crap from the car later.” He glanced at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, curious as to what the other man’s reaction was going to be, since the two of them hadn’t _exactly_ discussed what the sleeping arrangements were going to be once Richie moved in. In the spirit of taking things slowly, Richie had thought it best to assume that they wouldn’t be sharing a bed. Not right away, at least. 

Eddie looked slightly taken aback, but to his credit, he recovered quickly enough and awkwardly shifted Devon from one hip to the other. “I guess it is,” he said with a clearing of his throat. 

“You know, for _now_ ,” Richie added pointedly, offering a deliberate raise of his eyebrows, which Eddie responded to with a knowing smile. 

“Ahem. Anyway,” Eddie continued once more, turning to point to the bedroom across from the guest room. “That room used to be my bedroom when I was a kid. It’s Devon’s now. And the master bedroom is at the end of the hall,” he finished, gesturing with one hand to the only door he hadn’t yet covered. “I sleep in there, of course. In case you need anything during the night,” he added, and Richie could swear he saw him wink, although the rather dim lighting in the hall made it hard to tell. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Richie told him, focusing on adjusting his glasses so that his mind wouldn’t wander over to the list of many things he would _love_ to ask Eddie for during the night. Although, admittedly, probably not in a bed he’d once shared with Myra. 

“Daddy?” Devon interrupted, mercifully forcing the conversation to an abrupt end. 

“Yes, Bunny?”

“I’m hungwy.”

Eddie checked his watch. “Crap. I’m sorry, Bunny, it’s past your dinner time, isn’t it?” 

“Well, hey, if you wanna go ahead and feed him, I’ll get the rest of my stuff and start settling in,” said Richie. “I have a few phone calls I’ve been putting off making, anyway. Unless you need, like… help or whatever,” he finished lamely, unsure what the proper etiquette was when the man who was basically your boyfriend had a kid. Was he supposed to help out with childcare or what? He wasn’t against the idea at all, but if he was being honest, the thought of being responsible in any way for such a small human made him extremely nervous. 

Eddie let out a laugh. “Don’t worry, I have that covered. Unless you want that T-shirt of yours to get covered in applesauce and stray peas, because if so, you’re welcome to take a stab at feeding him.”

Richie balked and took a dramatic step backwards. “Yeah, no. Have fun.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Eddie with a smile, turning around and heading back toward the kitchen while speaking brightly to Devon. “Alright, Bunny Boy, what’s it gonna be tonight?” Richie heard him saying as the baby babbled incoherently in response. He glanced over toward the closed master bedroom door, curiosity burning within him as he wondered what Eddie’s bedroom looked like; what he saw every night before he went to sleep and every morning when he first woke up. He wondered if it looked even remotely like Eddie Kaspbrak lived in it, or if it was just another extension of the rest of the house, clearly defined by the two women who had made most of his life a well-controlled hell.

He already knew what the answer was likely to be, so he didn’t give in to the urge to peek inside. Instead, he headed back out of the hallway and into the main area of the house, gazing with warmth at the sight of Eddie sitting at the kitchen table across from Devon, who was carefully feeding himself peas, one at a time, from a small bowl perched on the tray of his high chair. 

“Don’t mind me, I’m just going out to the car for my crap,” he said as he passed through the kitchen. 

“Icky!” Devon squealed, happily tossing a single pea in Richie’s direction. 

“No, no, Devon, we _eat_ our food, we don’t throw it,” Eddie admonished him gently. “And we don’t throw things at people.”

“No throw.”

“That’s right.”

“In the little guy’s defense, he’s not exactly the first tiny Kaspbrak to throw food at me,” Richie pointed out with a smirk. 

“That was _one_ food fight, _one_ time, and you started it, if I recall correctly,” Eddie countered in exasperation. “Anyway, if he starts with peas now, he’ll graduate to messier food later, and then you’re not going to be so smug about it.”

“Ok, ok,” Richie conceded with a smile. He gave father and son one more adoring look before he set about collecting the rest of his luggage from the car and moving it into the guest bedroom. He’d never exactly been the type to own a whole lot of material things (at least, not that he felt the need to carry with him from place to place) and so it didn’t take him very long at all to unpack everything into his room, taking as much care as possible to make it look neat for once. He knew Eddie hated messes, and since this was Eddie’s turf, he would do his best to not make the man regret letting him move in. 

He was just hanging the last of his shirts in the closet, stepping back to admire his work, when he sensed someone behind him. He turned around, his eyes landing on Eddie standing quietly in the doorway, a freshly bathed and pajamaed Devon snuggled sleepily in his arms. 

“Settling in?” Eddie asked, smiling cheerfully.

“Just about,” replied Richie, his heart unexpectedly starting to melt when Devon let out a tired yawn and rubbed his eyes, his small, curly head pressed against Eddie’s chest as his eyelids drooped. Richie was _not_ a kid person at all and never had been, but goddamn that kid was adorable. “Looks like someone’s sleepy.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie softly, rocking Devon gently as he looked curiously into the room. “He’s had a long day. I’m just gonna put him to bed and then we’ll have the evening to ourselves to catch up.”

“Great,” Richie agreed, grabbing two suitcases and beginning a neat stack on the floor inside the closet. He could see Eddie out of the corner of his eye, still in the doorway, the expression on his face contradicting his silence by plainly showing that he had something he was dying to say but wasn’t. 

“Something on your mind there, Spaghetti?” Richie asked, adding a third suitcase to the stack. He glanced over at him, noting the change in his face from awkward to slightly relieved that one of them had said something. 

“Well, uh…” Eddie stammered, adjusting Devon on his hip and looking over at a spot on the wall just to the side of the door. “What the fuck, I guess I’ll just say it… I, um… I somehow didn’t expect you to _actually_ take the guest room,” he blurted out, his cheeks turning red as he relieved himself of the words. “I mean, I did make it up for you just in case, but I don’t know, I guess I thought…”

Richie added his duffel bag to the luggage stack and carefully closed the closet door. “Didn’t you say you wanted to take things slow this time?” he pointed out. 

“Well… _yeah_ , but… I mean, now that you’re here and this is actually happening, is… is that something you still want to do?” Eddie asked. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was rushing us again, but like, I also don’t want you to think that I’m keeping you at a distance or anything, because that’s not it at _all_ , and I’m honestly fine with however we take this, as long as we’re together, but I know the dynamic has changed a little bit now that there’s a kid, and-“

“Eds,” Richie interrupted him. “Do me a favor and take a deep breath.”

Eddie complied, breathing in and letting it out slowly, his eyes focused on Richie as he did so. 

“Feel better?” asked Richie. 

Eddie nodded. “Just a little.”

“Good.” Richie crossed the room and sat down on the end of the bed, directly facing Eddie, who still stood inside the doorway. “So, you remember what you said at the cafe, about how we never got to do the whole awkward dating thing together?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah?”

“Ok. Well, I’ve thought about that a lot since you said it. Like… a _lot_ ,” Richie stressed. “And the more I thought about it, the more I actually kind of liked the idea of us starting over. Not from complete scratch, but more from where we should have started years ago.”

“I’m not sure I get you,” said Eddie. 

Richie sighed. “I mean, you were right. We never _did_ get to have a real, true couple experience, because there was always something holding us back. So, I don’t know… I guess I just really love the thought of backtracking a little and having a sort of do-over, only better this time, since I’ll know I actually have a shot with you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “A shot?” He covered Devon’s exposed ear with one hand and gave Richie an inquisitive look. “We’ve had sex,” he pointed out in a loud whisper. 

Richie snorted. “Yeah, I’m aware. I’m _well_ aware. And I’d love to do that again. Soon. After we’ve had time to settle into just being together in ordinary ways.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, the anxiety that had been on his face slowly fading into a more relaxed, relieved look. “Ok,” he said after a moment of silence. “I guess we can do it this way.” A smile slowly crept across his lips as he spoke, one that reached all the way up to his eyes and made Richie feel warm all over. “But if you change your mind, at any time, for any reason, you just say the word.”

“Cool, what’s the word? Is it ‘penis’?” asked Richie, mouthing the last word instead of saying it out loud so that little ears wouldn’t pick it up. 

“Ok, yeah, I’m going to put my child to bed now,” said Eddie with an amused eye roll. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Richie smiled and stood up, crossing over to Eddie and placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll be waiting. Goodnight, Macaroni,” he added, turning to Devon and gingerly patting the top of his head. 

“Can you say goodnight to Richie?” Eddie prompted him gently.

“Night Icky,” murmured Devon, burying his face in Eddie’s neck to signal he’d had enough of the conversation. Richie watched them leave the room, his heart full and his mind racing with thoughts of how he couldn’t wait to experience everything a real, loving relationship had to offer. And, more importantly, to experience it with Eddie. 

He was still thinking about it later that night as he lay beneath the covers in his new bed, the still silence of a Maine night ironically making sleep impossible. He’d never realized just how much ambient noise a city provided, and how used to it he was, until there was suddenly none. He made a mental note to purchase a white noise machine and turned over onto his side just in time to see his door knob slowly turning. After a brief rush of adrenaline brought on by suddenly remembering every single horror film he’d ever seen in his life, he realized, with relief, that it was just Eddie. The other man peeked cautiously into the room, the moonlight outside the window reflecting on his face making him look like some kind of divine being. 

“Richie?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Wide,” Richie answered truthfully, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. 

“Is the bed ok?” Eddie asked, sounding worried. “That mattress hardly ever got used, so I don’t know if it’s-“

“No, the bed is fine, it’s the noise,” Richie explained. “Or the lack thereof.”

“Oooh,” said Eddie, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, night noises in Maine are… well, they’re not much. It’ll probably take you awhile to get used to it.”

“Yeah, I guess,” replied Richie. The two of them just looked at each other for a moment, the silence of the night making the one between them more awkward than it already was. Richie, strongly suspecting he knew damn well why Eddie was there, waited until he couldn’t anymore, and then propped his head up on the pillow with one hand. 

“So, Eds, are you going to make up some bullshit reason why you’re in here, or would you rather just cut the shit and get into the bed? Honestly, either one is fine with me.”

Eddie’s blush was visible even in the moonlight, but he also looked quite relieved as he wasted no time in stepping inside and quietly shutting the door behind him. Richie helpfully held the covers open and Eddie slipped right into them, pressing his pleasant warmth up against Richie’s body as he rested his head against his chest. Richie replaced the covers and wrapped his arms around him, smiling to himself when he heard Eddie let out a contented sigh. 

“I fuckin knew it,” Richie quipped. 

“In my defense, it _did_ get a little cold in my room,” Eddie protested indignantly. “And besides, you know that my favorite pillow has always been, and will always be, your chest.”

“Ah, so you only like me for my body,” Richie joked. “I see how it is.”

“Shut the fuck up and hold me,” Eddie retorted happily, lightly kissing him on the collarbone as he settled in comfortably. That was absolutely fine with Richie. He didn’t know what had ever made him think that he could content himself with sleeping alone when Eddie was so nearby. If anything was a backtrack to their younger days, it was _this;_ the simple pleasure of just being close to each other with no grander expectation than to fall asleep to the rhythm of one another’s heartbeats. 

“Oh, well, since you asked nicely,” said Richie, holding onto him securely as his very being eased into a peace he hadn’t felt since their days in New York together.

“Richie?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” said Eddie quietly, looking up at him with sincere eyes. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

“Me too, Eds,” Richie replied, softly brushing his fingers across Eddie’s arm. “So, I take it you’re never going back to your own room, huh?”

“Do you want me to?” asked Eddie, amusement in his voice indicating that he already knew what the answer was going to be. “Cause I can, if you-“

“Don’t you _dare,_ ” Richie admonished him. He could see a satisfied grin appear on Eddie’s face even in the dark as the other man squeezed him affectionately. 

“S’what I thought,” he said smugly as he let out an exhausted yawn. Richie felt his eyelids beginning to close at last, the rest that had eluded him earlier finally sweeping over him as he drifted off into a contented slumber full of pleasant dreams.

He awoke several hours later, blinking in the darkened room as he turned to squint his head at the digital clock beside the bed, which read 1am. He stirred ever so slightly, trying not to disturb the still deeply asleep Eddie, and yawned as he tried to remember the dream he’d been having right before he woke up. He had been sitting at the table across from Eddie, laughing and talking, he had definitely been about to lean in for a kiss, and there had been a weird noise that wouldn’t go away...

A faint whimpering noise reached his ears then, the same one from the dream, and Richie’s eyes widened, his mind once again going over every single scary movie or ghost story he’d ever seen or read. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound to see if he was just hallucinating it. 

“Daaaaadeeee!”

Nope. There it was again. _What the fuck is tha-_

“Daaaa dee,” the noise interjected again, and Richie suddenly felt like the world’s biggest moron as he realized what it was. _Jesus Christ, you forgot there’s a kid in the house, great fuckin job there, Tozier._

As though Devon could somehow sense that someone was finally listening, his whimpering grew louder and more insistent, each tiny cry making Richie feel increasingly worse for him. _Damn, poor little guy sounds miserable_ , he thought as he wondered whether he should try to wake up Eddie, or if he was just supposed to let the kid cry it out or whatever. He lay there for a moment or two, silently debating with himself as he fervently hoped that Devon would eventually stop crying and comfort himself back to sleep. 

No such luck. The whimpers continued until Richie could no longer listen to them. He had to do _something_ , but he also couldn’t bring himself to awaken Eddie, not when the other man looked so peaceful. It suddenly occurred to him that Eddie probably hadn’t had a full, decent night’s sleep in over two years, and it was this thought that finally motivated him to reach for his glasses and slowly maneuver himself out of the bed. He padded quietly across the room and carefully opened the door, closing it behind himself as he turned around to face the door to Devon’s room. 

_Ok, Richie. There’s no need to be nervous, he’s just a kid. How hard can it be to get a kid to stop crying? You used to help Stan babysit his cousins in high school all the time, this shouldn’t be too different. Just, like, do a funny voice or some shit, kids love that, right?_

He took a deep breath and slowly opened the door, peeking inside and trying to assess the situation as he went. The crying faltered a bit as the door opened, but didn’t stop completely, and Richie suddenly found himself face to face with a very pissed off looking toddler. Devon was standing up inside of his crib, the tiny fingers of one hand gripping the bars as the other held onto Icky the Rabbit by one ear. The Winnie The Pooh night light on the wall illuminated his face enough for Richie to see the kid’s clear disappointment as he realized the person standing in the doorway was not his dad. 

“Shhh,” said Richie, trying to sound soothing as he approached the crib with the maximum amount of caution, as if he were dealing with an angry grizzly bear and not just a cranky human child. 

“Daddyyyy?” Devon cried pitifully.

“No, buddy, it’s me,” Richie murmured quietly. “It’s Icky. Remember me?” He stepped closer a tiny bit every few words, stopping once he’d reached the crib and wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do next. His confidence was not helped in any way by the fact that Devon’s little face crumpled at the sight of him and he let out an unhappy wail as he leaned against the bars. 

“Shit,” Richie mumbled, beginning to wish he had just woken Eddie up after all. He closed his eyes for a moment and counted to five, giving himself a little pep talk as he went. _You’ve come this far, you have to at least try something, or he’s going to cry all night._

“Hey Macaroni,” he said, as bright and upbeat as possible. “You wanna hear an impression? I’ve got a great Spongebob one you might-“

Devon cut that sentence short with a piercing scream, tossing his rabbit gracelessly to the side and rattling the bars of his crib like a prisoner begging for freedom. “UUUUP!” he wailed, holding his arms up as tears streamed down his face. 

“Up… oh, you wanna be picked up?” Richie said, still keeping his voice light and airy in a desperate attempt to not make the crying any worse. “Ok, ok. Um… I’m just… I’m just gonna…” He gingerly reached down into the crib, grasping Devon firmly under both arms and carefully hoisting him up. 

“Ok, wow, you’re heavier than I thought you’d be,” he remarked, maneuvering Devon as carefully as possible, as though he were made of glass, until he was holding him the same way he’d seen Eddie doing earlier. Devon’s crying faded into quiet whimpers, with the occasional hiccup as his wide brown eyes regarded Richie with curiosity. 

“There you go,” he said, giving the toddler a light pat on the back. “That’s it, you’re ok. How about we go sit in that rocking chair, though, ‘cause you’re heavy as shit and I’m terrified I’m going to drop you, ok?” He carried him over to the chair in the corner of the room, settling in with Devon on his lap. Devon was still letting out the occasional cry, but mostly he was glancing around the room as though he were looking for a hidden camera to prove he was being pranked. 

“I don’t blame you, Macaroni,” said Richie as he rocked in the chair and continued patting him gingerly on the back. “If I were expecting your dad and got me instead I’d be pretty pissed off, too.” The sound of his voice seemed to calm Devon down a bit more, and the boy reached one hand up to Richie’s face, grabbing his glasses with one swift movement and yanking them off. 

“Uh, kid, I kind of need those to see-“

“Song, please,” Devon said, ignoring him as he clumsily attempted to place the glasses on his own face.

Richie sighed. _Eddie must sing to him when he wakes up like this_ , he reasoned logically. He wasn’t above singing if it was going to make the kid happy, but almost all of the songs he could think of were, decidedly, not appropriate for small children. _Fuck. Ok, um… oh, what was that song Mom used to sing to me when I was a kid?_

He cleared his throat and launched into a calm performance of “Baby Mine” from _Dumbo_ , skillfully but quietly putting to use the vocal training he hadn’t used since he was in high school theater. Devon stopped crying completely and settled himself comfortably against his chest, one thumb coming up to his mouth as his eyes started to blink tiredly. Richie mentally congratulated himself and kept singing, his eyes wandering around the room once he’d successfully procured his glasses back and could see properly again. He smiled to himself as he slowly realized that he’d found the one spot in the entire house that actually looked as if Eddie had spent time in it. Aside from the crib, changing table and neat collections of baby toys, little touches here and there made it quite clear that the room had once belonged to another boy; a boy who’d obviously loved _Star Wars,_ Indiana Jones, and cars of all types. 

_There he is, there’s my Eds. I was starting to think I’d never find you in this house._

“Ahem.”

Richie abruptly stopped singing, his eyes casting over to the open doorway where Eddie stood leaning against the frame, his arms crossed casually and his face full of gleeful amusement. He felt his face flush with embarrassment as he glanced down at Devon, whose eyes were now shut as he slept peacefully against him. 

“Uh… I um… he was crying and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up when you looked so comfy, so.. I just kinda…”

Eddie smiled. “I know, I’ve been watching you from the hallway.”

“....Excuse me?”

“Yeah, from about the time you started asking him if he wanted to hear your Spongebob voice,” replied Eddie. “For future reference, that cry is his “I had a bad dream and I’m pissed about it” cry, so a grown man he doesn’t know that well doing a creepy cartoon laugh is just gonna make it worse. So, singing was a much better choice, good job.”

“Dude, you could have just said something!”

“Why the hell would I do that? Watching you struggle was so much more fun,” Eddie said with delight.

“But still!” Richie protested with an eye roll. 

“Oh, relax, I would have stepped in if you really started fucking up,” Eddie assured him, stepping into the room and standing beside the rocking chair. “You did fine.” 

He looked down at his son fondly, a wistful expression appearing on his face. “You know what?” he said quietly, reaching one hand down to softly brush through Devon’s curls. 

“What?”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen him calm down for anyone except me,” said Eddie, his voice full of wonder, as though the idea had just occurred to him. Richie felt a strange, unexpected sense of pride at this news.

“Really?”

“Really. He never even liked when Myra tried comforting him,” replied Eddie. “It’s always just been me.”

“Shocking,” said Richie sarcastically. “Can’t say I blame him. So, uh… what um… how the fuck do I get him back in his bed without waking him up?”

Eddie laughed. “I’m not sure I want you to. I think I just fell ten times more in love with you just from watching you handle a toddler.”

“So what you’re saying is that you have a daddy kink?” Richie said suggestively.

“Aaaand now it’s ruined, thanks.”

“I’m not even sorry, I think that’s one of the best jokes I’ve told all year,” Richie teased him. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, give me my son,” Eddie chided him good-naturedly, expertly scooping Devon up into his own arms without so much as a peep from the baby. Richie sat back in the rocking chair, watching in reverence as Eddie put the boy back in his crib, placed a kiss to his forehead, and tucked Icky the rabbit in beside him. 

“Night, Bunny,” he whispered to him before turning to Richie with outstretched hands. “Alright, Trashmouth, I want my cuddles back, so get your ass back in that bed. Please.”

Richie snorted as he allowed Eddie to drag him up from the chair. “Anything for you, Spaghetti Man.”

*

_April 21, 2007_

_Dear Journal,_

_Richie and I went on a date last night. An actual, honest to God date, at an actual restaurant. Well, technically it was a movie theater that also serves alcohol and a full menu. We’ve been trying to figure how to go out in public together and enjoy ourselves as an actual couple without anyone recognizing him and it having an impact on his career. His management is dead set on him keeping his sexuality under wraps, which was never a huge issue until now, but I also get the feeling that he’d want to take baby steps with it regardless. He doesn’t talk about it much, but he has a lot of trauma he’s still carrying around from being so badly bullied as a kid, so I completely understand why our first date might make him a little nervous. If I’m being honest, I have some of the same reservations, plus I really don’t want anything to complicate these divorce proceedings and by extension, any custody arrangement. So really, easing into it is the best option right now. Ugh. I just hate that there’s always so much fucking red tape preventing us from being ourselves freely. Maybe I should bring it up to my therapist next time, but like, in general terms, to protect Richie._

_Anyway, Georgie agreed to come over and watch Devon so that Richie and I could go out. And let me tell you something, there are few things I’ve ever seen that are cuter than Richie Tozier trying to be romantic. This motherfucker actually opened my car door and then gave me a rose, before he burst out laughing and said he couldn’t believe he’d actually just done that. So of course I couldn’t help laughing my ass off too, and after we both recovered we agreed to leave romcom gestures like that out of it because they’re just weird and not like us at all. Personally, I found it much more romantic that he saved me the crunchy ones out of his fries because he knows those are my favorite. Romance is the little things, you know?_

_So anyway, I’m definitely gonna spend the rest of my life with this man. Fuck, I’m going to miss him when he leaves for work next week._

_*_

_12-03-07_

_From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_To: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_Hey Rich, I know you’re on the plane to LA right now, so I won’t call you until later, but I just wanted to deliver the good news that THE DIVORCE IS FUCKING FINAAAALLL, and so is the custody decision. I have primary custody and she has free visitation, with the caveat that she can’t take him out of state (and sure as fuck not out of the country) without my permission. To tell you the truth, I honestly don’t think she’ll even attempt any visitation. When she tried to hug Devon at the hearing, she got an earful of his new favorite word, “NOPE,” and then he clung to me like a fuckin koala until she gave up. Plus, I gather Mr. Internet doesn’t want a kid around cramping his style, which is probably why she didn’t put up a fuss at all over the custody ruling. So, I don’t know. I don’t want Devon to never have a relationship with his mother, but at the same time, if she isn’t going to push it I’m not going to complain, because little or no relationship will probably be better for him than a relationship like I had with mine._

_Sorry, I’m rambling. Call me when you get this, ok? And let me know how the plans are coming for your comedy tour. We can’t wait for you to come home next week! Especially me, because now I’m spoiled and can’t sleep without you next to me._

_Eddie_

_*_

_10-11-08_

_From: Trashmouth69@aol.com_

_To: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_Hey Eds, remember how you told me once that you’d like to start a tradition of taking Macaroni on a little beach vacation every summer like my parents did? I mentioned that to Stan, and I guess he and Bill are renting a beach house in North Carolina or some shit for two weeks in June. They thought it might be fun if we came along and made it sort of a double couple’s retreat, since we barely get to see each other. What do you think? My tour doesn’t launch until mid-July, so if you can get time off from work, it's definitely doable. It could be fun, and Stan and Bill would watch Devon for us sometimes so we could have a little time to ourselves for a chorus of On Top of Spaghetti, if you get my drift ;)_

_So anyway, when you’re done giving your computer screen the finger, call me._

_Richie <3 _

_*_

**June 2009**

**Coastal NC**

“You don’t think Devon is giving Stan and Bill too hard of a time, do you?” Eddie mused, the warm seaside air blowing pleasantly through his hair as he and Richie casually strolled along the bustling boardwalk. The sun had only just begun to set for the evening, which meant that every shop that they passed was already lit up like rows of friendly, welcoming beacons as nostalgic pop music blared from outdoor speakers planted all along the strip. It was a far cry from what he remembered of Turquoise Bank, and he was trying his best to enjoy the atmosphere, if only he could stop being such an over-thinker.

“You mean my angelic little Macaroni noodle? Of course not,” Richie replied dismissively. “How dare you suggest such a thing?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Because he’s always on his best behavior for you for some reason, so you still haven’t really seen his full-on _Exorcist_ side. Trust me, he has one. He gets it from me, unfortunately.”

Richie laughed. “Hey, first of all, it’s not my fault he thinks I’m so fucking awesome.”

“It kind of is, since you always spoil him after you’ve been gone,” Eddie pointed out sensibly. 

“And secondly,” Richie continued, “I totally _have_ seen him throw tantrums. They’re nowhere near _Exorcist_ level. _Pet Sematary_ level at the worst.”

“Maybe I should just give them a quick call…” said Eddie, reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

“Seriously, Eds, don’t be such a dad. You’re worrying way too much,” Richie said, giving Eddie’s hand a quick, comforting squeeze. “Stan and Bill are two grown-ass men, I’m sure they can handle anything a four year old can dish out. Or Bill can, anyway. I make no promises about Stan.”

Eddie sighed. “Ok, ok. You win. I’ll stop worrying,” he conceded, putting the phone back and giving Richie a small smile. “So, what’s next on the date night itinerary?” he asked, casually linking pinkies with Richie as they made their way down the brightly lit street. They had just come from an early dinner at one of the many seafood restaurants lining the strip, where Richie had spent much of the meal using pieces of his food as pawns to enact a very dramatic, plot twist heavy soap opera that nearly had Eddie dying of laughter despite how gross he should have found it. 

“Well, we _are_ surrounded by about five million nautical themed bars,” Richie pointed out. “And I’m pretty sure one of them is having a trivia night. I say we take advantage of having a childfree evening and let the fuck loose.”

“Hmm. Sounds good, but fiiiirst,” Eddie said dramatically as his eyes landed on a small, clapboard structure near the entrance to the beach. “I seem to recall that the last time you and I walked a boardwalk, we got some ice cream.”

Richie followed his gaze over to the ice cream shop and gave him an enthusiastic grin that Eddie was positive lit up his eyes, even though they were hidden behind the sunglasses perched over his regular ones. “Sure!” he exclaimed, gently pulling Eddie by the wrist over to the window. “Same as last time?”

“Yep.”

“Two vanilla cones, please,” Richie said to the employee behind the window. “One plain and one with sprinkles.” Eddie smiled, his mind flashing back to that fateful day so long ago, when he’d first met the boy who would end up having such a wonderful, immeasurable impact on his life. _God, if we’d only known back then._

“I can’t believe it’s been twenty years and you _still_ don’t like sprinkles,” Eddie teased him as they collected their cones and began walking toward the beach, the salty sea breeze making everything seem so light and carefree; a utopia that the real world and all of its problems could never puncture. 

“Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me for not wanting tasteless rabbit pellets on my food like you- oh my god, Eds!” Richie exclaimed, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “Listen!”

“What?” asked Eddie, his ears perking up as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to be listening for. “All I hear is music and people talking.”

“The song, Eds!” Richie insisted, gesturing toward the boardwalk, where a vaguely familiar song was wafting in their direction from one of the outdoor speakers. “Do you hear it?”

Eddie concentrated, his ears focusing in on the song as he attempted to make it out. “Meat Loaf?” he said once he’d finally managed to catch some of the chorus. 

“Yeah!” said Richie excitedly, a wide smile appearing on his face as he pushed his sunglasses up onto his head in order to see him better. “This is our song!”

“It is?”

“Oh my god, don’t tell me you don’t remember,” groaned Richie around a mouthful of ice cream. “This was the song playing in the arcade the day we first met.”

Eddie frowned, casting his mind once again back to that day. “Oooooh! You’re right,” he said slowly as it started to come back to him. “I can’t believe you remembered that so quickly.”

Richie snorted. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? I don’t think I could forget a single detail about that day if I tried.”

“Hey, I remember details too!” Eddie protested indignantly. “I remember just minding my own business and trying to play… what was it?”

“ _Street Fighter_ , bitch!”

“Right,” said Eddie with a smile. “And all of a sudden this cute, annoying little boy with glasses and a Hawaiian shirt comes up to me and has the absolute audacity to worm his way into my heart over the next two decades.”

“God, I want to kiss you so badly right now,” murmured Richie quietly, his eyes darting around as though he were trying to assess the risk of doing exactly that. 

“Hey,” said Eddie, gently tapping the back of the other man’s hand. “Look at me.” He brought two fingers up to his own lips, kissing them softly as Richie watched. He then brought them up to his boyfriend’s face, placing them delicately against Richie’s lips as the other man’s eyes locked with his own. 

“Yeah, kind of like that,” quipped Richie with a grin, linking arms with him as they made their way down the beach while still working on their ice cream cones. 

“It’s been a really great vacation so far, hasn’t it?” Eddie said, breathing in the scent of the salty air as the moon began to rise over the ocean; a perfect postcard scene only occasionally interrupted by scattered groups of tourists. 

“It has,” agreed Richie. “I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in a long time- hey, look!” he exclaimed, pointing excitedly as they passed a haphazardly assembled sand castle. “The castle we built with Devon today! It’s still here.”

Eddie smiled broadly, giving the half-smushed castle a fond look as they strolled past. They’d had quite a time building it, Eddie trying his best to teach his son the basics of building codes and safety regulations while Richie just dumped tons of sand in random spots with zero regard for structural soundness, much to Devon’s delight and amusement. 

It had been wonderful. 

“Ugh, I wish we had the whole summer just to live like this,” he lamented. “I don’t want to go back to work, and I _really_ hate that you’re going to be gone so long.”

“Aaaw, Eds,” said Richie comfortingly. “It’s only for a few months. We shoot the HBO special in August, the tour finishes by November, and I’ll be home in time for Devon’s birthday. And then we can have the most sickly sweet, barf-inducing holiday season there’s ever been.”

“Ah, well… we, um… we might be just a _little_ busy over the holidays,” said Eddie nervously, wondering if this was the best time to bring up something he’d been wanting to discuss with Richie for several days. He had figured he wouldn’t bother until they’d gone home, but something about being on the moonlit beach, arm in arm with his boyfriend in their own happy little bubble, made it seem as if this was as good a time as any. 

“Busy with what?” asked Richie curiously. 

“It’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Eddie began, anxiously taking a bite from the top of his cone now that the ice cream was mostly gone. 

“What, are you pregnant?” asked Richie jokingly.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Hilarious, Trashmouth.”

“Yeah, ‘ _Hilarious Trashmouth_ ’ was one of the titles I was considering for my special.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Eddie pressed on as they walked. “I’m, um… kind of up for a promotion at work.”

Richie unlinked their arms in order to turn and face him, his eyes bright with surprise. “Really? That’s great!”

Eddie beamed. “Yeah, it’s a senior risk analyst position, which is something I’ve been working toward for a long time.”

“I know.”

“There’s just… just _one_ little catch,” Eddie added timidly as Richie frowned in confusion. 

“What’s that?”

Eddie sighed. “The promotion would be for a new branch that the company is opening, and that branch is in New Hampshire. And I know that we discussed eventually moving to New York or California together,” he added, the words tumbling out all over each other before Richie had a chance to get a word in edgewise. “And I still want to do that, you know, _someday_ , but right now, this promotion could be great for me, you know? It would involve having to move down there, but I really don’t want to turn it down. I actually _like_ my job now that my life isn’t quite such a huge mess, so-“

“Eds,” Richie interrupted him, a small smile appearing on his lips as he looked down at him with soft eyes. “Don’t turn it down.”

“Really?” Eddie said, trying to get his breathing back under control without automatically reaching for his inhaler, something that he’d been working on for quite a while, to better success than he’d been expecting. 

Richie nodded. “Really. You should _not_ turn it down if it’s that important to you. I can come back and forth from New Hampshire just as easily as I can from Maine.”

Eddie let out a sigh of relief. He’d known that this would probably be Richie’s reaction and that he’d been worrying for no reason, but a lifetime of having to carefully word how he delivered any kind of change to his mother or Myra to avoid a meltdown from either one had conditioned him to be a nervous wreck anyway.

“I’m so glad you said that,” he said happily. “Because, well…I don’t want to commute hours every day, obviously, so I’m going to have to sell my mother’s house and get something down in New Hampshire.”

“Yeah, good point,” Richie agreed, biting down on the last part of his cone thoughtfully. 

“And,” Eddie added, “I’d really love it if you were part of that process with me.” 

Richie froze, his brain clearly piecing together what Eddie has just said as he swallowed his dessert. “You mean, like… choose a house together?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Eddie said, smiling as he rolled his eyes. “Something that’s just _ours_. This would be our chance to sort of start fresh and have a place together that has no connections to anything or anyone else. Someplace with a nice, big master bedroom,” he added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Oooh. With room for a stripper pole?” Richie asked teasingly. 

“Not unless you’re going to be the one on it.”

“Fuck.”

Eddie laughed. “No, but really, I want us to, you know… start down our own path together. And honestly, it doesn’t have to be forever, maybe only for a few years, but right now I just _really_ want this promotion, so it means a lot to me that you’ll-“ He got no further, because as he’d been talking, Richie had been busy kissing two of his own fingers, which Eddie suddenly found being placed gently on his lips, a perfect mirror of what he himself had done earlier. 

“Eds, I’ll follow you anywhere. When do we start house hunting?”

Eddie broke out in a joyous grin that he could feel stretching from ear to ear. “The branch opens next May, so we should start looking when you get back from your tour, Mr. Hollywood. The sooner the better, since I also have to find a decent kindergarten for Dev-“

The ringing of his phone in his pocket interrupted him. He took it out, looking down at the screen and letting out an amused laugh as he read the newly received text message. 

“What’s up?” asked Richie, his voice full of curiosity as he took in Eddie’s body language. 

“Uh, well. That’s a text from Bill,” Eddie answered as he stuck his phone back in his pocket. “They finally got Devon to sleep just now, and I guess Stan has officially declared that they’re never having children. Also, neither of them ever want to hear a _Hannah Montana_ song ever again.”

Richie laughed loudly, covering his face with one hand as uncontrollable giggles escaped from his mouth. “That’s my Macaroni noodle,” he said proudly. “I knew I’d be a great influence on him.”

“Yeah, well, you’d better influence him not to torment his uncles so much if you ever want another date night on this vacation,” Eddie pointed out, re-linking their arms and steering him back in the direction of the boardwalk. “Now, I believe you said something about a bar.”

*

_June 7, 2010_

_Dear Journal,_

_Well, we are officially MOVED IN. I still can’t believe we managed to find a house this nice for such a good price, considering the shithole the economy is in right now, but I’m really fucking grateful. And more importantly, I’m grateful that Richie and I own this house and it’s ours to do whatever the fuck we want with. It’s not full of my mom’s crap, and it’s not a rented apartment that we can’t do much with. It’s OURS. We’ve already started discussing decor, and yes, I’ve had to talk him down from lime green paint for the living room walls, but I don’t even care, because that’s MY boyfriend with no taste and I love him._

_God, I’m just… so happy right now. I’d be even happier if he wasn’t immediately leaving next month for work, but at least it’s only a few guest spots on TV shows. He’ll be home in time for Devon’s first day of kindergarten, which I AM IN NO WAY READY FOR, by the way. I can’t believe my baby is already starting school. Where the fuck did the time go?_

_I gotta stop here before I start crying._

_*_

_08-23-10_

_To: MagsTozier@aol.com_

_From: EKaspbrak76@aol.com_

_Dear Maggie,_

_I just wanted to thank you again for staying with Devon while Richie and I went away for our anniversary. Well, not technically our anniversary, more like the anniversary of when we met, and also the only time we could both get off from work. Sorry, you may have noticed I ramble a lot._

_Anyway, we both really appreciate it, but I especially do, because my son doesn’t really have any grandparents. Not that he ever sees, anyway. You and your husband are the closest thing he has, and he really seemed to love staying with you, so, again, I really just want to say thank you. Richie and I would love it if you guys could come for Thanksgiving! It’ll be our first in this house. Let us know._

_Love,_

_Eddie_

_*_

_September 20, 2011_

_Dear Journal,_

_As you may have heard, since I incoherently raved about it two pages ago, my Trashmouth is now an Emmy winner!! His HBO special won in the variety show category. I was so pissed that I couldn’t at least make it out to LA to celebrate with him after the ceremony, even if we can’t exactly walk the red carpet right now, but unfortunately I had work to do. So, he came home last night and I could just tell something was bothering him, but you know how guarded he can be. Eventually I managed to get it out of him that, while he was happy for the recognition and the award, he was upset because he couldn’t thank me in his acceptance speech. I think it also gets to him that his comedy set is still written by others and is a reflection of the image his management wants for him, rather than what HE would want if he had creative freedom. He’s never said that in so many words, he tries to mask it all with humor all the time, but I know him better than that._

_Anyway, after he told me that while we were getting ready for bed, he just… really came apart. He kissed me, clung to me, couldn’t get close enough, and when we eventually got intimate, it was me taking total control. That’s only happened a handful of times, and every time it’s been when he’s too overwhelmed and needs to just be taken care of._

_I hope he knows how proud I am of him, no matter what._

*

**October 2011**

**Portsmouth, NH**

“Would you like some tea?” Devon asked sweetly, settling down in a chair at the child-sized table set up in the middle of the living room. Richie had just watched him spend the better part of ten minutes setting out tiny cups and carefully arranging his stuffed animals around said table, putting Icky the rabbit last in the place of honor right beside his own spot. 

“Yes, please,” Richie obliged, shifting uncomfortably in the chair that was definitely not designed for fully grown men, and which necessitated him stretching his legs out to the side as though he were trying to side-saddle a horse. He reached for the nearest teacup as Devon grabbed the matching pot from the middle of the table. 

“No!” Devon exclaimed, shaking his head and taking the cup dramatically out of Richie’s hand. “Not that one!”

“How come, buddy?”

“That’s _Icky’s_ cup,” replied Devon as though that fact should have been obvious, punctuating his words with a sassy eye roll that his father would have been proud of if he had been there to see it. 

“Aren’t I Icky, too?” Richie protested.

Devon just stared at him for a moment. “Your name is _Richie_.”

“I know, Noodle, but I remember when you used to call _me_ Icky,” said Richie haughtily. “Where do you think your rabbit’s name came from, hmm?”

Devon blinked, the dark brown eyes he’d inherited from Eddie filled with exasperation as he blew a stray curl out of his eyes. “ _Richie_ , this is _your_ cup,” he said pointedly, pushing a bright blue teacup in Richie’s direction and carefully starting to pour red Hawaiian Punch into it from the small plastic teapot. 

“Whatever you say, Macaroni,” Richie agreed with a smile as he watched the boy concentrate hard on pouring the liquid without spilling it. He actually quite enjoyed these quiet afternoons alone with Devon while they waited for Eddie to come home from work; an arrangement they had decided on some time ago when Richie felt awkward hanging around the house by himself during his breaks from work while Devon was in after-school care. Eddie had vehemently insisted that he shouldn’t feel like he needed to be responsible for childcare when he was around, to which Richie had replied that he didn’t feel like he _had_ to; he _wanted_ to. He reasoned that this gave him a chance to bond with the boy a little more every day. 

“So, Dev,” he said casually, sipping on his punch as he waited for Devon to finish serving all of his plushies. “How was school today?”

“Fine,” said Devon, finally picking up his own teacup and meticulously sticking one pinky up in the air. 

“Do anything fun?”

“I played with the piano,” answered Devon in between sips. “I played ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. But then I stopped.”

“Aw, how come?”

“Lauren Thomas said I sucked at playing and that I should stop before I made everybody go deaf.”

Richie paused mid-sip, a sudden flash of anger coursing through him as he was suddenly transported back decades to his own childhood, the hurtful words of his peers ringing in his ears; words that had only gotten worse and cut deeper the older he and the other kids got. Lauren Thomas was no different from any of the kids who had picked on him back then, and he knew all too well how long words could linger, not to mention the effect they could have on a person’s entire life after the fact. He carefully set his cup down and looked across the table at Devon, who was busy lifting Icky’s cup to the plush rabbit’s mouth. 

“Hey, Devon?”

“What?”

“Next time Lauren or anyone else makes fun of you, can you do me a favor?” Richie waited until the boy had his attention focused on him before he continued. “I want you to not even listen to them. Ok?”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t fuc- it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of you,” Richie explained. “I only want you to worry about what _you_ think of you. Don’t let anyone else tell you what you can do. Be your own person.” _Sound advice, Trashmouth, maybe you should take it._

“That’s what Daddy says,” said Devon.

“Your dad is right,” Richie agreed. “Don’t end up a grumpy butt like me when you’re grown up, alright?”

Devon frowned. “But you’re cool!” 

Richie’s heart just about melted into a puddle at this proclamation, but the sound of a key in the front door prevented him from replying. “Hey, kid, sounds like your dad is home!” he said brightly as he got up from his tiny chair and started to collect the teapot and cups before Eddie could yell at him for allowing Hawaiian Punch so close to the clean living room carpet. 

“Daddy!!!” Devon exclaimed excitedly, bounding up from his own chair and bolting over to the door, where he pounced onto his father as soon as Eddie had walked through it. 

“Bunny!” Eddie cried, setting his briefcase down and loosening his tie in that sexy way that Richie always loved. He leaned down and scooped Devon up in his arms for a hug. “Ugh, feels like somebody is going to be too big for Daddy to lift anymore pretty soon,” he said as he covered his son’s face with kisses. 

“Is something _I’ve_ never heard you say,” Richie couldn’t help but quip in a singsong voice, for which he was rewarded with a glare from Eddie that could freeze the tropics. 

“Me and Richie had a tea party!” Devon enthusiastically told his dad as Eddie put him down and pulled Richie in for a quick kiss. 

“I see that,” replied Eddie with a smile as he took in the sight of the table and chairs. He allowed Devon to follow him throughout the house as he set about putting his things away, the happy sound of the boy’s chatter filling the background as Richie settled himself down onto the sofa with his thoughts. His advice to Devon that day hadn’t been the first time he’d uttered those exact same words lately. Recently, he’d found he’d been saying them to _himself_ every time his career forced him to deny some aspect of himself; to hide his own life and personality away in the shadows and allow the persona that his management had decided on for him to take center stage. 

And every time, he felt like he died a little inside. 

“Something on your mind?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice and the feel of him plopping heavily down beside him jarred Richie out of his reverie, and he turned to look at him, his heart heavy but full of love for this man who, for some unknown reason, had decided to be his. 

“Yeah, I was thinking about how fuckin sexy you are in that suit,” said Richie, putting his arm around him and pulling him close. “That shit should be illegal.”

Eddie laughed and rested his head on his chest. “Cute, but also, I can tell from the look on your face that wasn’t all you were thinking about. So come on, spill. Did you have a hard time with Devon today or something?”

Richie shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I just…” He hesitated, unsure what he wanted to say, or if he wanted to say anything at all. He finally decided that he might as well throw caution to the wind and just speak his mind. If he was going to value anyone’s opinion, it was going to be Eddie’s. Hell, he _needed_ Eddie’s opinion on this particular matter. 

“How comfortable would you be if we, like… went public?” he asked cautiously. 

Eddie looked at him curiously. “Public?”

Richie closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure out how best to phrase what he was thinking. “I don’t mean, like, taking out an announcement or posing for magazine covers or anything, but just, like.. not exactly hiding our relationship in public anymore,” he explained carefully. “Because I won’t lie, sometimes it just fucking eats at me. Like the Emmys. I should have been able to just thank my partner in my speech without worrying about what anyone would say about it.”

“Well-“

“And like, I see other celebrities coming out and being able to just live their lives, and I think, why the fuck can’t _we_ have that?” he continued, unable to stop talking now that he’d begun. “You know? Why the fuck shouldn’t we be able to walk a red carpet or even just kiss each other in public? Just because some PR company says so? Because I’m still just a little bit scared of what people will say about me? Or you? Why the fuck do I _care_ what people say about us? And I’m not saying that I want to do anything right now, or even any time soon, but eventually I _do_ just want to leave all the bullshit behind. Only if you’re in this with me, though, Eds. I need you to be ok with it.”

“Richie,” said Eddie quietly, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tight. “Why _wouldn’t_ I be ok with it?”

“Well because,” Richie stammered. “Everyone would know.”

Eddie snorted. “Richie, everyone important in our life _already_ knows that we’re together, and most other people around me at least know that I’m in a relationship with a man. Not you specifically, but definitely a man. After all I’ve been through in my life, I don’t give a single fuck if people know I’m gay anymore.”

“So… if I did eventually decide to say ‘fuck it’ and just be out and proud, you’re good with that?” asked Richie. 

Eddie looked thoughtful. “Well, obviously I wouldn’t want paparazzi or whatever bothering Devon…”

“No!” Richie exclaimed. “No, of course not. God, no. You know I would protect that boy with my life.”

Eddie smiled warmly at him. “I know.”

“And like I said, I don’t know if I even want to do anything right now,” Richie reminded him. “It’s just something I’m working through.”

Eddie nodded. “Well, whatever you decide, I’m here for you,” he told him, leaning in to press their lips together softly. 

“Thanks, Eds.”

“That’s love, babe,” said Eddie, giving him one more kiss before leaning back to look at him with a mischievous smile. “Now, what was that about walking red carpets?”

Richie grinned. “Oh yeah, that’s like the biggest perk of dating a famous person, Spaghetti.”

“All those hot celebrity men on one ugly rug?” said Eddie teasingly. “Sign me the fuck up!”

“Sure, but you have to wear this exact suit,” Richie declared as he surged forward and pushed Eddie gently backwards onto the sofa as their lips connected once more. 


	10. I Think It’s Gonna Rain Today

_April 10, 2012_

_Dear Journal,_

_Well, it finally happened. When I picked Devon up from school yesterday, he asked me if Richie was my husband and if so, does that make him his dad too? I guess one of his little friends at school has two fathers, and so he’s been thinking about this for a few days now. And I…. had no fucking idea how to answer his question, I’ll be honest. I guess I should have been better prepared for him to ask eventually, just not this soon. If it even is that soon? He’s seven, after all, he’s not a baby anymore. Anyway, I finally told him that Richie is my boyfriend and that, even though he’s not *technically* his dad, I know for sure that he loves him just like one. Which led to Devon asking if he has a mom, which sent me mentally scrambling for an answer that won’t psychologically scar him for life, and well… long story short, I’m not typically an advocate for a Happy Meal from McDonalds as a weeknight dinner, but if it gets a seven year old distracted enough to stop asking questions, I’m definitely not above it._

_Note to self: Warn Richie that he might or might not be accosted by a pint sized interviewer with unexpected questions when he gets home._

_*_

_May 1, 2012_

_You know what works even better than McDonalds as a distraction for a small child? A fucking cat, that’s what. My absolute fucknut of a life partner, having been warned about Devon’s curiosity about the state of our family, came home this weekend prepared with the cutest goddamn grey kitten I’ve ever seen in my life, and that includes Mittens, who is the exact reason why I couldn’t protest too hard about THIS cat, and this asshole knew it. Devon immediately named him Pouncer and dramatically proclaimed that he would die for him, so I guess now we have a fourth family member. Whose litter box will be entirely Richie’s responsibility when he’s home. I tried, I tried SO HARD to argue with him later that night about how he should have discussed it with me first before he gave our kid a pet, but for one, he brought up Mittens, and two, he unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you view it) has wonderfully effective ways of using his big mouth to be persuasive, and let’s just say that not all of them involve words._

_He’s SO lucky I love him._

_*_

_November 1, 2012_

_Surprisingly, this was only the second year in all the time Richie and I have been together that he’s actually been home for Halloween, so we decided to have some fun and do a Monsters, Inc. family group costume for trick or treating. Devon already claimed Mike from the moment we asked his opinion, so that left a fight to the death between me and Richie over who was going to be Sully and who would be Boo. We drew straws; he lost, but I do have to say that his pigtails turned out great. And now I have a new favorite picture of all of us standing on our front porch, with special guests Randall Denbrough and Roz Uris now that they’ve moved close by (Billy feels like the northeastern scenery inspires him to write better or something, and Stan is so head over heels for him he doesn’t care WHERE they live, which is just… ugh it’s so sweet). I’m absolutely gonna frame that shit and put it right in the living room._

_Anyway, as a treat we told Devon he could stay home from school today, so he had a little pajama party with us in our room after we got home. We ate candy and watched spooky movies until really late, and as I’m writing this I’m watching them both sleeping (and, in Richie’s case, snoring with the cat on his chest) and wondering how the fuck I ever got so lucky. I probably won’t go into work today, just so I can savor this moment for a while longer._

_Also, I’m so not going to be the one to clean all the fucking candy wrappers off the floor, as I am not the one who threw them there instead of in the trash bin that’s literally right across the room. RICHIE._

_*_

_February 16, 2013_

_Happy (Belated) Valentine’s Day! Thanks to the graciousness of Maggie and Went agreeing to come watch Bunny for the weekend, Richie and I have been holed up in a cabin in the mountains since yesterday. Technically I suppose the point of coming up here was to go skiing, but so far we, uh… haven’t exactly left the cabin. Which has honestly been just as nice, since for once we don’t have to worry about there being a kid in the house to hear us (or worse, walk in). We’ll probably go out to dinner later and maybe go ice skating, but for now I’m really enjoying just being curled up in bed together, especially since Richie will be leaving next month for his new tour and I won’t see him until he meets up with us at the beach in July. Plus, he’s just plain fucking adorable when he’s sleeping like this. I just wish my goddamn asthma wasn’t acting up so much; it’s the only thing putting a damper on this weekend for me. Granted, I’ve had a lot of exertion in the last 24 hours, but this is the most times I’ve ever had to reach for my inhaler in at least a few years. It’s got to be the weather._

_Anyway, looks like my man’s starting to wake up, so let’s see how long it takes to wear him back out, shall we? (This is where, if I were texting with Bev instead of writing in a journal, I would insert one of those smiling devil emojis)._

_*_

**July 2013**

**Hampton Beach, NH**

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

The soothing sound of Eddie’s voice slowly eased Richie out of his sleep, the bright, late morning light filling the master bedroom of their rented beach house serving to rouse him the rest of the way awake as he turned his head to look at his boyfriend. Eddie was looking at him with a soft smile, his dark eyes shining and his hair still a tousled mess from the previous night as he tenderly pressed a kiss to the back of Richie’s shoulder. 

“Morning,” Richie murmured with a yawn, turning the rest of his body over so he could look at him properly, as well as he could without his glasses. “How long did I sleep? What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” replied Eddie, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of Richie’s eyes. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. You got in so late as it was, and I, uh… didn’t exactly let you rest,” he added with a grin. 

“That’s for damn sure.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said sheepishly, even though he was clearly not even a little bit sorry. 

“Don’t _ever_ apologize for maintaining our tradition of Welcome Home Sex,” Richie admonished him with a kiss. “It’s like, 75% of what keeps me going when I have to be away for work. If I ever turn down Welcome Home Sex, you should call the police, ‘cause you can safely assume that it’s not actually me, it’s an alien who for some reason decided to invade earth disguised as me, of all people.”

“Oh, so what you’re saying is that it’s all about sex for you then?” Eddie teased.

“Hey, it’s not _all_ about sex,” Richie protested as he reached over to the nightstand for his glasses. “I don’t come home just to tap that ass. Although, I will freely admit, it _is_ a fine ass.”

Eddie snorted. “Ok, so what’s the other 25% of what you come home for?”

“That,” answered Richie, pointing directly at Eddie’s face with one finger. “That fuckin smile, man,” he said as he leaned in for another, deeper kiss that made him shiver with happiness. “Also, I might have gotten the percentages switched around,” he added in between pecks. 

“Alright, Casanova,” said Eddie, his cheeks blushing red as their lips finally parted. “Flattery will get you everywhere, but right now I’m requesting that you get up and get ready, cause I _kiiiiinda_ promised Devon we would all go out to lunch today, and I’m sure there’s only so many more cartoons that will hold his patience until the whining starts.”

“Fair enough, my good fellow,” Richie agreed in the corny British voice he knew drove Eddie insane. “Do you want the shower first? Or should we save time and shower together?”

“We vowed never to do that again after you almost got a concussion last time,” Eddie pointed out. “Besides, I already showered while you were sleeping.”

“And then you actually got back into bed with my disgusting ass?” asked Richie, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Spaghetti, I’m touched.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s love, bitch. And a little bit me still being tired as fuck.”

“Understandable, I gave you a lot of exercise last night.”

“You shower, I’m going to get dressed,” Eddie said with a light pat to Richie’s ass. “The sooner we can get going, the sooner we can come back home and take a nap.”

“You gonna smack my ass again?”

“If you’re good.”

“Yes, sir,” Richie saluted him. “Right away, sir.” He grinned as he rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom, excited to get started on his first day back with his family in what seemed like forever. He showered and dressed quickly, and forty minutes later the three of them were happily strolling down the boardwalk toward their favorite eatery, Devon eagerly chattering away as he filled Richie in on everything he’d missed since he’d been away. 

“And then on the last day of school, they gave out awards to everybody for different stuff, and mine said Most Talkative,” he enthusiastically informed Richie as he walked between them. “That means I never shut up.”

“Sounds like just the award for you, Macaroni,” said Richie, playfully touselling the boy’s hair. 

“And the teacher said _everyone_ voted for me to win it,” Devon continued. 

“I bet!”

“I wanted to make a speech like on the Kids Choice Awards, but there wasn’t enough time.”

Richie laughed. “Maybe next time, kid. I bet you’ll win that award next year, too.”

“You think so?” asked Devon, sounding pleased. 

“Definitely,” Richie assured him as he and Eddie exchanged a smile over the boy’s head. By then, they had already arrived at the restaurant and were being led to an outdoor table by a friendly hostess, who sat them with menus and a small package of crayons for Devon. Not that they really needed the menus. They’d been there enough times over the past few summers that their orders were usually the same, the only possible wild card being whether Devon would choose pasta or chicken tenders. 

“I want nuggets,” Devon declared as soon as they sat down. _Ah, there it is._ “I can save some of them and give them to Pouncer tonight as a treat.”

“Pouncer has his own food, Bunny,” said Eddie. “Plus, I don’t think human food is very good for cats.”

“I gueeeesss,” Devon grumbled disappointedly, carefully opening the crayon package and selecting a blue crayon, which he used to start filling in the picture of a fish in the corner of his menu. 

“Alright, Eds, you ready for the first crisp margarita of the summer?” asked Richie with a bright smile as they settled in, the warm sun and the scent of salty sea air already making him feel ten times more relaxed than he’d been in months. Touring was a lot of fun, but it was also stressful as all fuck. 

“Actually, I’ll probably just get water,” replied Eddie. “I’m not really feeling any alcohol today.” Richie felt his smile fade just a little as he watched his boyfriend root in the fanny pack around his waist for his inhaler and take several puffs.

“Are you ok?” he asked him, concerned. He’d never known Eddie to turn down his favorite drink before, not unless he was either sick or planning to drive. 

“Yeah!” Eddie assured him. “Yeah, I’m good, I’m just a little out of breath. I think something in the air here is triggering my allergies.”

“You sure?” asked Richie with a frown. 

“Oh my god, I’m fine,” Eddie insisted with an eye roll. “I have a physical in the fall, if this keeps up I’ll mention it, ok?”

“Ok, ok,” sighed Richie. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Ok.”

“ _Ok_.”

“Mmm-kay,” said Richie in a perfect imitation of the school counselor from _South Park_ , which had the desired result of Eddie’s face breaking out into a grin as he tried not to laugh. 

“You’re such a dork,” said Eddie as he put his inhaler away. 

“Oh, I know, I was under the impression that was one of the things you liked best about me,” replied Richie as he took one of Devon’s crayons and started filling in a picture of a shark on the paper children’s menu. 

“That so?” asked Eddie. 

“Yes, and you know it.”

“Uh-oh, did Dad take over your crayons?” a waitress interjected brightly as she approached their table. Richie stopped coloring and exchanged an amused glance with Devon over the paper, unsure how to respond to that. 

“Yeah, _Dad_ , get your own crayons,” Devon replied seriously, much to Richie’s surprise and Eddie’s obvious entertainment. “He’s _aaaaaaalways_ doing this,” he said dramatically as he faced the waitress, who chuckled and produced another package out of the pocket of her apron. 

“There you go, honey,” she said warmly. “Now you and your dad don’t have to share.”

“What do you say to the lady, Dev?” Eddie prompted him gently. 

“A thousand thank yous, ma’am,” said Devon sweetly as he carefully selected a purple crayon for the colorful octopus he was currently working on. Richie smiled to himself as he watched Eddie’s eyes close briefly. _Close enough, Macaroni._

“You’re welcome, hon,” the waitress replied with a laugh. “He’s just precious,” she added, looking from Eddie to Richie with a kind smile. “You guys are such a lucky couple, this is a beautiful family you have here.”

Richie felt his face start burning at these words, adrenaline inexplicably coursing through his veins. He and Eddie had never been acknowledged as a couple in public before, of course, but something about it unexpectedly happening for the first time like this, in a completely ordinary setting, by an ordinary person who obviously didn’t recognize him, in a way that felt as natural as can be, made him feel somehow invincible. 

“Thank you,” he replied before he could overthink it, reaching across the table for Eddie’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “We’re attached now and kind of proud of him, so I guess we have to keep him.” He met Eddie’s eyes, which were shining with a mix of curiosity, surprise, and a warm love that went straight to Richie’s soul. 

“That was new,” said Eddie after the waitress had left with their complete orders written on her notepad. 

“I’d prefer to call it a baby step,” replied Richie as he went back to coloring his shark. “I think it might be time we started taking those, don’t you?” he added, keeping his eyes on the paper in order to avoid having to see it if Eddie disagreed. 

“I think so, yeah,” said Eddie after a beat of silence. “I actually thought you’d never ask.” Richie glanced up and saw his boyfriend giving him the brightest smile he’d ever seen, which instantly filled him with peaceful calm. 

“Richie, I’m gonna call you Dad sometimes from now on,” Devon informed him straightforwardly, never removing his eyes from the menu as he colored. Richie paused, trying to come up with a cool response, even though this declaration was only adding exponentially to his sudden good mood. 

“You can call me whatever you want, Noodle, but why only sometimes?” he asked curiously. 

“Cause my dad is Dad too, and that’s confusing,” replied Devon. “When you’re in the same room you’re Richie, that’s the rules.”

“You know what? I think that’s fair,” said Richie, reaching over to ruffle Devon’s curls. 

“Alright you guys, give me one of those damn crayons,” Eddie demanded good-naturedly. “I wanna get in on this family coloring action, too.” Devon wordlessly handed him a red one and Eddie smiled, immediately setting to work on a friendly looking starfish. 

“Dad, maybe we can go have a sandcastle contest on the beach later,” said Devon as the three of them colored happily. 

“That sounds fun, Bunny,” Eddie answered him. 

“And Richie can kick your butt.”

“You think Richie can kick my butt with those sloppy messes he calls castles?” said Eddie calmly as he continued to fill in the starfish. 

Richie snorted. “I think I can do _something_ involving sloppy messes and your b-“

“RICHIE.”

*

_01-06-14_

_From: Richard_Tozier@gmail.com_

_To: MSands@falcontalent.com_

_Dear Mr. Sands,_

_This is a formal letter intended to inform you of my intention to not continue my relationship with Falcon Talent as of the end of my current contract, which will terminate on 03/10/14, and seek representation elsewhere. This was a difficult decision to make, but a highly personal one as well. I do not feel that I can continue to be represented by an agency that continually stifles my creative freedom, not to mention exerts a suffocating amount of control over my personal life. I simply feel as though the time to part ways with Falcon and open a new chapter of my career has come. Thank you for everything, and I sincerely wish you all the best in the future._

_Sincerely,_

_Richard W. Tozier_

_*_

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_So I guess I finally joined this Twitter thing all the kids are raving about._

03/24/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_This is the place where we’re supposed to start controversy, right?_

03/24/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Today’s controversy: ‘Friends’ is and always has been overrated. Discuss._

03/24/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Wow, that.. that blew up faster than I expected o_o_

03/24/14

*

_April 21, 2014_

_Help me, I’m having a crisis over how big my baby is getting to be. Yesterday was Easter, and after we got done with the egg hunt in the park that we’ve done every year since we moved here, my son told me that he’ll probably want to skip it next year because it’s “for babies.” NO, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, YOU’RE ONLY NINE, YOU’RE STILL_ _MY_ _BABY!! I guess I was a little comforted when we came home to an Amazon package for him containing the hugest fucking stuffed bunny I’ve ever seen in my entire life, courtesy of Richie, and he went absolutely apeshit over it. Seriously, that thing is bigger than Devon, so big that he immediately started using it as a beanbag chair to watch TV with. He might keep growing up, but he will never be bigger than that bunny._

_Ugh, Eddie, shut the fuck up, you’re starting to sound like your mom. I guess maybe it’s because lately I’ve just been realizing how old I’m getting, you know? In two and a half more years I’ll be forty. FORTY. As it is, I can barely exercise anymore without some kind of difficulty. Bill and I try to go for runs together a few mornings a week, but the past few times we’ve done it I’ve gotten so out of breath halfway through that I had to stop. I don’t know if it’s asthma related or what, but my chest hurt like a motherfucker and we both just called it quits. I need to see my doctor about maybe changing my inhaler._

_*_

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Controversy of the day: If you park in two spaces because you think your car is that special, you have a tiny dick. I don’t make the rules._

05/08/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Catch me on Conan tomorrow night at 8pm so you can point to me and tell everyone how much you hate me!_

05/08/14

*

_June 15, 2014_

_Richie left really early this morning to fly out for work, and after I kissed him goodbye I went back to sleep because I am perpetually fucking exhausted these days. I woke up later to a text from him with a picture of a sunshine shaped luggage tag and a Father’s Day card he’d found in his carry-on. Apparently Devon snuck in last night and put them there for him to find, and he must have made both of them all by himself, because this is the first I’m hearing of them. Richie said he cried like a bitch, his words, and honestly? I’m doing the same into my new, hand-painted World’s Greatest Dad mug right now, while Pouncer looks at me like I’m fucking insane. We’re not worthy._

_*_

_August 1, 2014_

_Beach time! We’re a little late this year, since Richie was busy and I spent most of the last month catching up on work and just feeling generally rundown. My doctor seemed to think it was a combination of stress and some kind of flu. It’s gotten a little better, but I still haven’t quite shaken it. I’m definitely going to try to relax as much as I can and just enjoy myself during these two weeks. It’ll help having Richie around, I think. I’m always way less stressed out and sleep better when he’s home. Plus, we always kind of regard August as our anniversary month, so being on the beach for it this year will be romantic._

_*_

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Happy Halloween, assholes! This year I’m going as a mediocre comedian with a few dates coming up you can waste money on tickets for at www.richietozier.com_

10/31/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Fun fact about me: I fucking love spaghetti. There’s no joke, I just felt like sharing that fact on this particular day for absolutely no reason._

11/11/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Controversy of the day: Pumpkin pie is the fucking worst and an embarrassment to the whole pie family. Happy Thanksgiving!_

11/27/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Second only to spaghetti is my other favorite thing in the world, macaroni. Enjoy knowing this fact about me._

11/30/14

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Unsure what to gift that person you hate at the office? How about tickets to my dates in Boston and Providence? www.richietozier.com_

12/15/14

*

_January 1, 2015_

_What a New Years Eve last night was. Devon was invited to a NYE sleepover at one of his friends’ houses, so Richie and I had the house to ourselves, and we…. actually didn’t do a whole hell of a lot, to be quite honest. It’s been a hectic season, what with the holidays and get togethers and of course Stan and Bill’s wedding, and I think we both were grateful for a night to just chill on the sofa together, devour pizzas and watch bad movies. So, the night was pretty uneventful in that regard. What made it memorable was, as I’m laying there half asleep on his chest and we’re in the middle of our third or fourth dumb comedy movie of the night, all of a sudden he looks down at me and is like, “So, my new movie premieres in April.” And I was like, “Yeah?” because of course I already knew that he would be flying out to LA for that right after he finishes with that performance in Boston. So then he goes, “I’m allowed to bring a plus one.”_

_Oh. My. GOD. After I finished kissing the breath out of him, I told him that of fucking COURSE I’d attend the premiere with him. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. Not because it’s a big Hollywood premiere or whatever, although I won’t lie, that’s exciting, but because I know this is a huge step for him and for us, and I’m so happy we’ve finally arrived at this point._

_Christ, what the fuck am I going to WEAR, though???_

_*_

**April 2015**

_“Richie, are you sure you’re ok?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You’re positive?”_

_“Mmm-hmm.”_

_“Because you don’t look ok, and we absolutely do NOT have to do this if you don’t want to.”_

_“No… I… I’m totally fine, I just…”_

_“Rich, look at me. LOOK at me. Don’t do this if you’re not comfortable. Really, it’s not that important, it’s just a stupid premiere. We don’t even have to get out of this car. I can tell people you’re sick or something and we can just back out right now.”_

_“.......”_

_“Richie.”_

_“No.”_

_“No?”_

_“No. No, we do have to do this. I WANT to do it, I just… needed a minute, but I’m good.”_

_“You’re sure you don’t want to just go eat or go back to the hotel or something?”_

_“What, and NOT have people see you all dressed up in that sexy suit looking like the sugar AND the daddy? Fuck that, Eds, I wanna show you off.”_

_That laugh. That fucking laugh that would never fail to incite butterflies in his stomach._

_“Alright then! We got this.”_

_“Fuck yeah! Let’s go fuck this thing in the mouth!”_

_“........... I wouldn’t carve that on a stone tablet, but…..Yeah!”_

_“....Hold my hand, though?”_

_“The whole time, if you want. I promise.”_

“Mmmph.”

Eddie’s soft groan as he stirred in his sleep momentarily suspended Richie’s mental replay of the last forty-eight hours, and he had to pause to look down and marvel at the precious gift he was lucky enough to be holding in his arms. Eddie was still mostly asleep, his eyes closed and his nose twitching adorably as his head lolled comfortably against Richie’s chest. 

Richie smiled, his heart dissolving into a puddle as he softly kissed the man’s hair and happily went back to turning over each and every memory from the weekend. Arriving at his premiere, flashbulbs going off everywhere as he nervously held on tightly to Eddie’s hand and did his best not to throw up. A few people whispering, a few smiling at them, but most people not paying them much mind at all, a far cry from the irrational fears he had built up in his mind for so long. 

Arriving back at their hotel afterwards, overwhelming relief rushing through his entire body as they collapsed together onto the bed. Pulling Eddie down on top of him for comfort as they shed their clothes, impatiently eager to feel their skin touching. The soothing look of love in Eddie’s eyes as he tenderly took care of him, kissed him, reassured him with every gentle touch and every movement within him that he would never let Richie fall. 

The plane ride back home. The good-natured teasing from Stan. Devon begging to be allowed to attend the next one as they arrived back at the house, and Eddie telling him with a laugh that they’d see. Eddie exhaustedly falling asleep against him almost as soon as they’d gone to bed. Every moment so perfectly captured in Richie’s memory that he hoped they would never fade and be the first of many they would make together. 

Perfect. All of it perfect, all of it theirs. 

“Ungh,” groaned Eddie as he tiredly brought one hand up to his face. 

“Sleeping Beauty finally awakens,” Richie teased him with a kiss on the forehead. 

“Fuck you, what time is it?”

“Chillax, it’s early. It’s only like 7:30 or something. It’s not like we have anything planned for today,” Richie pointed out. 

“Devon has school,” yawned Eddie, his eyes still closed. 

“He’s ten years old, he knows how to get himself ready in time for the bus,” said Richie as he hugged Eddie and, by extension, his body heat, closer to him.

Eddie’s eyes finally opened in order to give him a withering look. “If I know my kid, I can guarantee you he’s wasting time watching YouTube videos on that phone you _insisted_ on getting him for his birthday instead of getting dressed and ready, and the bus arrives in fifteen minutes.”

“Fair point, but consider this, is it really the end of the world if he misses the bus?” asked Richie sensibly. “I’ll take him to school if he misses it, it’s fine.”

Eddie sighed, but smiled as he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and snuggled closer to him. “Fiiiiiine,” he conceded as he unlocked the phone and opened up his Twitter app. “Hey, wanna see if anyone is saying anything else about us on the interwebs?” he said, grinning as Richie rolled his eyes. 

“Listen, just because a bunch of teenage girls online saw you in some pictures and think you’re hot, that doesn’t mean you should let it go to your head,” he replied dryly. “I mean, they’re right, but still.”

“Sure it does,” Eddie dismissed him as he settled his head back against Richie’s chest and began to scroll. “Why should you be the only one people drool over, huh? Ok, let’s see… blah blah blah Richie’s adorable, blah blah blah he’s such a puppy, blah blah blah how does he get cuter every time…. wow, I should take a picture of you next time you start drooling in your sleep with your mouth open and send it to these girls, see what they say then.”

“Fuck youuuuuu.”

“Ah, here we go. Someone wants to know who “that fine ass man candy” is with you in the pictures,” said Eddie gleefully. “And the person replying to them says… oh,” he trailed off, his cheeks suddenly flushing bright red.

“What?” Richie asked, putting his glasses on and eagerly scanning Eddie’s phone screen until he found the tweet. “Wow,” he said thoughtfully once he’d read it. “I mean, speaking as someone who actually _has_ experienced that particular act with you, I can totally understand why she’s saying _she’d_ let you.”

“Yeeeeaaah, I think that’s enough internet for the day,” said Eddie as he closed his phone and exasperatedly clapped one hand over Richie’s grinning face. 

“Ah, come on, Eduardo, if you’re gonna be in the public eye you gotta learn how to handle a few thirst tweets,” Richie teased him as he removed Eddie’s hand and leaned down for a kiss. 

“You’re lucky you’re worth it, Trashmouth,” replied Eddie as he kissed him back and smiled up at him. “Now, if you want to get _me_ super thirsty, you can pleeeease go and check on Devon for me,” he added, a sudden look of distress briefly crossing his face as he sat up in bed. 

“You ok, Eds?” 

“I’m good, I just felt a little lightheaded just now,” Eddie answered as he swung his legs carefully over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment. “I’m sure I’m probably still jet lagged from the plane yesterday.”

Richie frowned. “Maybe you should lay back down,” he suggested, suddenly concerned as he watched Eddie start to stand up on shaky legs. 

“No, no, I’m good,” Eddie assured him as he shook his head and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to splash some water on my face and get a drink and I’ll be fine. Go check on Bunny.”

“But-“

“Please?”

Richie sighed. “Ok, ok. I’ll be right back,” he promised as he got out of bed himself and made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he found Devon, thankfully already fully dressed, shoving the last few spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other. 

“Morning, Macaroni,” he greeted him with a smile. “All ready for school?”

“Do I have to go today?” Devon asked, fixing his large brown eyes on Richie hopefully. 

“Fraid so, little dude.”

“Dad isn’t going to work, though,” Devon pressed. 

“Your dad and I had a busy weekend,” Richie pointed out. “He’s taking the day to recover from traveling and he’s right back to work tomorrow.”

“I had a busy weekend too,” Devon protested. “Uncle Stan does _not_ stop once he’s started a jigsaw puzzle. Do you have any idea how much work it is to sort puzzle pieces by color?”

Richie chuckled, feeling himself start to relent even though he knew Eddie would give him hell. “I guess you kinda have a point, there.”

“So can I stay home??” Devon asked eagerly. “Just this one day? Pleeeeease?”

Richie narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “Just out of curiosity, exactly which test are you trying to avoid?”

“.....None.”

“Devon.”

“I swear!”

“Don’t lie to your _cool_ dad,” Richie pushed. 

Devon sighed. “Ok, fine, it’s math, but I promise I’ll study for it today if-“

A sudden, loud crash from upstairs cut his words short, and the two of them exchanged a puzzled look before Richie suddenly felt a horrible sickening feeling start to take over in the pit of his stomach. He turned around and bolted back upstairs, clumsily taking them two at a time, and rushed into his and Eddie’s bedroom, his blood turning to ice as he entered the bathroom and saw Eddie sprawled out onto the tile floor, gasping for breath with the fallen towel rack beside him. 

“EDDIE!” Richie screamed frantically, rushing over to him and pulling him into his arms as his stomach sank to his knees. “Eds… oh my god, fuck, what happened? EDDIE!”

Eddie winced in pain, his hands desperately trying to cling to the fabric of Richie’s shirt. “Rich.. Richie.. I can’t breathe,” he barely managed to whisper. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONT KILL ME YET, I did promise y’all a happy ending and there will be one, I swear! There’s only a few more chapters left to go now ^_^


	11. And Let Your Poor Heart Break a Little

“Rich… Richie… I can’t breathe…” Eddie’s eyes were wide with panic, his breath coming out in short, labored gasps as his hands desperately gripped at Richie’s T-shirt. “I can’t.. I..”

“Ok,” Richie answered frantically in a choked voice, holding onto him as his eyes wildly scanned the bathroom. “Ok, you’ll be ok, we’ve just got to get you your inhaler, alright? We just gotta…” He reached one arm over to the drawer just underneath the sink, yanking it open and blindly rooting around for the inhaler he knew Eddie usually kept in there along with the other first aid supplies, and letting out a whispered “Oh, thank God,” as his fingers finally closed around it. He watched in helpless terror as Eddie grabbed it from him and hastily brought it up to his mouth, taking several desperate puffs that appeared to do absolutely nothing except panic him more when they didn’t have the desired result. 

“Eddie… Eds… fuck… FUUUUCK,” Richie cried, pure fear settling deep into the pit of his stomach as he watched his boyfriend struggling to breathe, tears beginning to trickle down from the other man’s eyes onto his hot, flushed face. 

“Eds, I don’t know what to do, what do I do???”

He’d witnessed many of Eddie’s asthma attacks over the years; had held and calmed him through some bad ones and some downright scary ones, but even the worst of them had never looked as terrifying as _this_ . He could feel it in his gut that something about this time wasn’t normal. Eddie clearly needed more help than he could give him, and he needed it _now._ It was this thought, flashing in his brain like a neon sign, that gave him the strength to push his fears aside and begin formulating a plan. 

“Eds… Eds, I need you to stay with me, alright?” he said shakily, trying to sound much less scared than he actually was. He gently maneuvered one arm around Eddie’s waist and used the other to grab onto his hand. “You’re gonna be fine. Try to stand up with me, ok? I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Eddie’s face became even more distressed at these words. “Rich..” he gasped out raggedly.

“I know, I know you hate emergency rooms, but I’m sorry, I’m not giving you a choice,” said Richie bluntly. “You can yell at me later.” 

“Daddy?” Devon’s small, scared voice suddenly caught Richie’s attention as he turned to see the boy standing in the bathroom doorway, looking absolutely horrified at the sight in front of him. 

“Devon, go get my keys,” Richie said to him, a strange sort of relief washing over him at the thought that he didn’t have to go through this alone, even if, in the back of his mind, he knew that a ten year old wasn’t likely to be any more helpful to Eddie than Richie himself. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Devon whimpered, stepping cautiously into the room as he stared at them with wide, scared eyes. 

“Dad needs to go to the hospital,” Richie explained, somehow managing to keep his voice calm despite the fact that he was positive he was going to throw up from anxiety any second. “So I need you to be a big help. Ok? Go get my keys from the hook in the kitchen and unlock the car for me. Can you do that?”

Devon seemed hesitant to leave. “Is he gonna be ok?” he asked tearfully. 

“Just get the keys, Devon!” Richie snapped, knowing that he sounded more aggravated than he intended and feeling like a complete asshole because of it, but he couldn’t worry about that at the moment. 

“Please do it, Bunny,” Eddie added weakly, his gentler words seeming to finally reassure Devon, who turned out of the room to follow his parents’ instructions, leaving the two of them alone once more. 

“Ok, Eds, on the count of three, I’m going to lift us both up, but you have to work with me, ok?” said Richie. Eddie nodded and held onto him tightly, closing his eyes in anticipation as Richie began to count. 

“One… two… THREE!” Richie said, successfully pulling Eddie up alongside him and giving him an encouraging smile. “Alright, there you go, we’ve got this. Now, we’re gonna have to walk downstairs.” Eddie winced but gave him a determined nod. It seemed like it took years, but at long, long last they finally made it down the stairs and into the garage, where Richie could see Devon already waiting inside the unlocked car. The boy quickly opened the door to the backseat and Richie helped Eddie inside, carefully placing him in the seat beside his son and fastening the seat belt around him. 

“Dad, I got your shoes and your coat,” Devon said helpfully, indicating a large tote bag in his lap. Eddie reached for his hand and squeezed it gently as Richie hurried into the driver's seat and started the engine. “I got yours too, Richie,” Devon added in a small voice, reaching into the bag and pulling out Richie’s dark green leather jacket, which he timidly handed over to him. Richie took it, giving him a small smile as he did so. 

“Thanks, Mac,” he said. “That was very helpful of you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Devon, scooting as close to Eddie as his seat belt would allow and resting his head on his shoulder as Eddie placed one shaky arm around him. Richie backed down the driveway and began to make his way toward the hospital, a drive that was only about fifteen minutes, but felt more like fifteen decades as he kept one anxious eye on Eddie through the rear view mirror. Eddie’s breathing was still horrifically labored and gasping, but at least his face wasn’t quite as red anymore, which gave Richie the tiniest bit of comfort as he stopped just short of breaking any speed limits in his hurry to get to their destination. 

_God, please let him be ok,_ he silently pleaded as he tried to keep his own breathing under control in an effort not to be sick. _Please._

At long last, they had reached the emergency room of the nearest hospital, where the triage nurses took one look at Eddie and immediately began whisking him away despite Richie’s protests that he wanted to go with him. 

“Stay with Devon, Richie,” Eddie said to him in between strained breaths.

“No… no, we.. I’m not leaving you by yourself. I made you come here, I…”

“Sir, we generally ask that family members stay out in the waiting area until called to join the patient,” a nurse explained bluntly. 

“I wanna stay with you!” Devon objected, throwing his arms around Eddie’s waist as his father weakly hugged him.

“Go.. go wait with.. with Richie, Bunny,” he said to him breathlessly, giving Richie a look that he immediately understood to mean that Eddie didn’t want the child to witness any more of this horrible situation than he already had. Richie swallowed down a lump and nodded, unhappy but willing to do whatever Eddie wanted him to. 

“Don’t leave, though,” Eddie gasped out. 

“Of course not.”

Eddie kissed Richie goodbye and let the nurses take him away then, leaving Richie and Devon with nothing else to do except to go sit down next to each other on a padded, but still quite uncomfortable, waiting room bench. Devon was looking miserably down at his sneakers as he nervously picked at a loose thread on his jacket, uncharacteristically quiet as his brows furrowed with an immense worry that looked so out of place on someone so young. 

“Hey, Dev?” Richie spoke up after a moment or two of tense silence had passed. 

“Yeah?”

Richie sighed heavily. “Look, Noodle, I… I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. You know, in the bathroom. About the keys.”

Devon looked over at him, quizzical look on his face momentarily replacing the worry. “It’s ok.”

“I was just really scared,” Richie continued, rambling on partly to actually apologize, but mostly in the misguided hope that the sound of his own talking would distract him from whatever the fuck was happening to Eddie. “I wasn’t mad at you or anything, I was just so scared about your dad, and I shouldn’t have snapped. You know that, right?”

“I know,” replied Devon, smiling just a little as he leaned over to give him a big hug, which did wonders for helping to calm Richie down. “We’re good. You can chill.”

Richie laughed as he hugged him back and playfully ruffled the boy’s unruly hair. “Thanks, Macaroni. That makes me feel a lot better.”

Devon sat back on his side of the bench, a solemn look crossing his small face like a grey cloud blocking the sun. “He’s going to be ok, right?” he asked, his bottom lip starting to quiver as he spoke without making eye contact. 

“Definitely,” Richie said determinedly, trying to convince himself just as much as Devon, even though the memory of Eddie’s panicked, flushed face and rattled breath scared him more than anything in his entire life ever had. 

_You’d better fucking be ok, Edward, or I’ll kill you myself._

Hour after hour passed, every minute dragging on for a lifetime and a half as the two of them sat side by side in the waiting area, not saying or doing much of anything, and only leaving their spots for as long as it took to grab a quick lunch from the cafeteria down the hall. Eventually, a clearly exhausted Devon fell fast asleep with his head in Richie’s lap as the clock announced the beginning of yet another hour. The television bolted to the corner of the ceiling droned on as it played an afternoon talk show to an audience that largely wasn’t paying attention, and Richie felt inexplicable irritation coursing through his veins, trying to keep himself calm for Devon’s sake as he listened to the show’s special celebrity guest blathering on about some frivolous bullshit. _Yeah, I’m reeeal glad you and your wife had a fantastic vacation in South America, but who honestly gives a flying fuck when my Eds is in pain right now, and the stupid staff won’t let us back there with him, and they don’t even care that we’re both so fucking scared because we’ve never seen him like that, and-_

“Excuse me,” interrupted a nurse who had suddenly stepped into the waiting room. “Are any of you the people who came in with Mr…. Edward Kaspbrak?”

“Me!” exclaimed Richie frantically, moving to stand up before remembering that he still had half of Devon asleep on his lap. “Us,” he clarified as the nurse walked over to them. “We did, we’re his…he’s my.. I’m his partner, and this is our son,” he babbled, gently shaking Devon awake. “Devon… hey… Macaroni, wake up. The nurse is here.”

Devon’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he and Richie waited expectantly for news. The nurse gave them a small smile and adjusted the grip on his clipboard. 

“Mr. Kaspbrak is being admitted,” the nurse explained to them kindly. 

Richie’s heart suddenly felt like a lead brick in his chest. “Why?” he demanded. “What’s the matter with him?” _Oh god, it’s worse than I thought, he fucking HATES hospitals and now he has to STAY?... Fuck, he’s never going to forgive me for this._

“Is my dad ok?” asked Devon, once again clearly on the verge of tears as he looked from Richie to the nurse, the worry that had briefly left his face in his sleep now returning tenfold. 

The nurse gave them a sympathetic look. “He’s doing fine right now, sweetie. The doctors would like to run a series of tests that may take a day or so, so admittance will just be the most convenient option. He’s being moved to a room on the third floor right now.”

“We want to see him,” said Richie as he stood up, feeling one hundred percent sure that he was going to burst from anxiety right there on the emergency room floor if he didn’t see Eddie as soon as fucking possible. 

“Of course!” the nurse replied reassuringly. “That’s why I’m here. If you guys follow me, I’ll show you to his room.”

Richie felt Devon’s small hand slip into his, and the two of them followed the nurse out of the ER, into an elevator, and then down several hallways until they reached the door to room 308. The nurse curtly rapped on the door with his knuckles, and never had Richie heard a sound that filled him with as much joy as Eddie’s perfectly loud, strong, and clear, “Come in.”

Richie didn’t know exactly what he’d expected to see once the door was opened. He supposed, in the back of his mind, that he’d been preparing himself for Eddie to be hooked up to a shit ton of machines that made annoying noises and restricted his movement, like on TV. He knew, better than most people, that such an assumption was ridiculous because, as an actor, he knew exactly how many creative liberties TV shows were apt to take. Regardless, however, that was still the image that his mind automatically conjured up.

So, it would have been a massive understatement to say he was relieved to see that Eddie was starkly machine-free and looked perfectly normal, for the most part. He was wearing a hospital gown, of course, and he had a series of round electrode patches stuck to his chest, which in turn _were_ hooked up to a small machine. He was sitting up, though, and more importantly, he was breathing just fine. 

“Found a couple things of yours downstairs,” the nurse joked as he let them inside. Devon immediately pushed past both of them, practically catapulting himself over to Eddie and throwing his arms around him with a choked sob. 

“Hi, Bunny,” said Eddie soothingly, hugging him close and kissing the top of his hair as he rubbed his back. “Shhh, everything’s fine.”

Devon looked up at him tearfully. “Are you ok?”

Eddie smiled. “Sure I am!,” he answered him in a tone of voice that Richie could tell he was struggling to keep bright and nonchalant for the boy’s sake. “They’re just keeping me here for some tests and I’ll be home in a couple of days.”

“Good,” said Devon as he stood up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “What are those?” he asked, pointing warily to the electrodes dotting the top of Eddie’s chest. 

“My monster tentacles?” Eddie joked. “They’re nothing, honey. They’re just a way for the doctors to know what’s going on inside my body, that’s all. I don’t want you to worry about that,” he quickly added when the anxious frown started to reappear on Devon’s face. “You don’t have time to worry, you’re a busy boy. I can see you’ve been working on growing new freckles.”

A small smile started to crack through the solemness in the boy’s expression, and even Richie felt himself smiling as he saw where this was going. This was a game Eddie often played with Devon ever since the boy was tiny, wherein every once in a while he would make a show of checking his son’s face for new freckles. He would then enthusiastically give them their own names, much to Devon’s delight. 

“I have not,” Devon protested happily. 

“Yes, you have,” Eddie insisted with a smile. “I can see them, there’s three new ones right here,” he said, gently tapping the side of his son’s nose. “I’ve never seen these in my life.”

Devon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, his smile growing slightly bigger. “Ok, fine, what’s their names?”

Eddie took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he pretended to think it over exaggeratedly. “Let’s see,” he said thoughtfully. “This one’s… Carrie,” he said at last, placing one finger on Devon’s nose. “This one is Danny, and this one waaaay over here is Charlie.” He smiled and reached a hand up to ruffle Devon’s curls. “Don’t worry, Bunny. Ok?” he said softly. “Everything is fine, I promise.” 

Devon nodded and Eddie kissed him on the forehead, giving him a gentle pat on the arm as he pointed to a small chair in the corner that looked a lot more comfortable than the waiting room bench. “Go sit over there for a minute and play with your phone so I can talk to Richie, ok?”

Devon did as he was told, and Eddie turned his head to look at Richie, who swallowed and cautiously approached the bed. He could see that the brave front that Eddie had put on for Devon’s benefit was already crumbling, quickly being replaced by an expression full of fear and uncertainty as he held his arms out. Richie immediately fell into them, holding onto Eddie as tightly as he dared, and buried his face in his neck as he finally allowed a few of the tears he’d been holding back all day to fall. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds,” he murmured into the other man’s skin. “I’m sorry I made you come here, but you just looked so _bad,_ and I didn’t know what else to-“

“Shhh,” Eddie soothed him quietly, tearing up himself as he softly stroked Richie’s hair. “Don’t apologize, it’s my own fault for not doing anything about my symptoms for so long. I just thought it was my asthma, and so did my doctor, and you know how I hate going to doctors or hospitals unless I have a good reason, so I just didn’t-“

Richie broke from the hug just enough to give him a concerned stare. “It… it’s not your asthma?” he asked, panic starting to rise back up through his body as he looked into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie brought a finger to his lips and shushed him, casting a furtive glance over at Devon, who was quietly scrolling through his phone in the corner. 

“They think it might be my heart,” Eddie whispered shakily, words that made Richie’s own heart begin to attempt a flying leap into his throat. 

“They _think_?” Richie whispered loudly. “They don’t know???”

“That’s what the testing is for,” answered Eddie with a miserable sigh. “They want to figure out the exact problem, and I.. I just can’t stop thinking about my dad, Rich. He died of a heart attack, what if he had some underlying problem and it was never diagnosed and I.. I have…” His dark eyes widened as he spoke, his breath beginning to come out in short gasps again, and Richie sprang into action, taking Eddie’s face tenderly into his hands. This he could handle; this wasn’t whatever had happened in the bathroom that morning. He’d seen Eddie start to panic exactly like this many times over the years, and he’d always been able to help him through it. 

“Eds,” he said as quietly as possible so as not to attract Devon’s attention, making eye contact as he stroked Eddie’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Eds, look at me. Take a deep breath, ok? Panicking isn’t going to help you right now. Can you do that for me? A nice, deep breath?” He breathed in and out as a guide, and Eddie gradually began to mimic him, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly until he was breathing somewhat normally again. 

“Ok, good. You’re doing so good, babe, alright, now listen to me,” Richie said lowly. “Let’s not lose our shit until we actually know something. Alright? Right now we don’t know anything, and it might not even be as bad as we think.” He felt a little hypocritical telling Eddie not to panic when he himself was about two seconds away from going absolutely insane with anxiety over the situation, but the important thing at that moment was getting the other man to calm down. 

“But what if it is?” Eddie pushed back fearfully. 

“Then we’ll take it as it comes,” said Richie sensibly. “And I’ll be there with you no matter what, ok?” Eddie nodded and leaned in for a kiss, which Richie returned as he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears from his boyfriend’s face. 

“Dad?” Devon sprang up from his chair and walked over to them as Eddie hurried to wipe his eyes. “Dad, don’t cry,” he said sweetly as he rushed to throw himself into the family hug. “You don’t have to stay here forever.”

Eddie let out a laugh and kissed Devon’s forehead as Richie enveloped both of them into one giant embrace. “I’m alright, Bunny. Hey, you know what would be really fun?”

“What?” asked Devon.

“Let’s turn on the TV, find the dumbest movie we can, and make fun of it,” said Eddie brightly.

“Hey, yeah!” agreed Richie, immediately crossing the room to start pushing two chairs over toward the bed. “I’m always up for a bad movie.” He placed the chairs side by side and settled into one as Devon took charge of the oversized remote attached to Eddie’s bed and started flipping through the channels. 

They were almost all of the way through _The Happening_ , Eddie and Devon both crying with laughter at Richie’s jokes, when the sound of knuckles rapping on the partially open door interrupted their moment. Eddie muted the television and all three family members turned to see a friendly looking nurse peeking into the room with a floral printed clipboard in her hand. 

“Knock knock,” she said brightly as she entered the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I’m just here to introduce myself to you, Mr…. Kaspbrak,” she read off from a paper on the clipboard.

“Eddie,” said Eddie.

“Eddie,” she repeated with a smile. “I’m Tina. I’ll be your nurse tonight, so if you need anything, press the red button on the remote next to your bed and I’ll answer the call, ok?” Her eyes traveled over to Richie, widening in recognition as Richie inwardly groaned. A fan was the absolute _last_ thing he needed or wanted right then. 

“I… I’m sorry to stare, but are you… are you Richie Tozier?” she asked tentatively. 

“Guilty,” replied Richie with a tight smile, trying to sound as nice as possible, since this was, after all, going to be the person in charge of Eddie’s medical needs and he didn’t want to piss her off. 

“Oh my god, I’m _such_ a fan,” Nurse Tina gushed as she perched herself on the edge of Eddie’s bed and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I used to live in New York when I was a kid, and my friends and I traveled across the entire city in a pouring rainstorm once just to see you on Broadway, before the show closed.”

“Wow,” said Richie politely. “I, um… I hope it was worth it.”

“Oh, it was!” she assured him. “It’s such an honor to meet you, really.”

“Thanks,” replied Richie, awkwardly accepting the handshake she was offering as he caught a glimpse of Eddie looking quite amused out of the corner of his eye. 

“Wow,” she giggled nervously as she shook his hand. “This is so exciting. Ahem. Anyway, just a reminder that visiting hours are over in about two more hours at 8pm, and there’s a…”

She kept on talking, but Richie sure as fuck wasn’t listening, and he could tell from the horrified expression on Eddie’s face that he wasn’t listening either. Neither of them had even considered visiting hours, and the thought of having to leave Eddie all by himself in a hospital overnight made Richie feel nauseous. 

“... so just leave your filled out menu on the table by 7am,” Tina finished. “Do you have any questions?”

_Yeah, I have a question, would I get *arrested* for staying after visiting hours, or…._

“N-no, I, um… I think I got all of that,” murmured Eddie in response, and Tina smiled, leaving a breakfast menu on the bedside table before she left the room. Richie glanced over at his boyfriend, who was once again starting to get the now familiar panicky look in his eyes. 

“Eds?” he said cautiously, locking eyes with him and squeezing his hand. “You ok?”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m good. Everything’s good.”

Richie looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Everything about Eddie’s face told Richie that he was lying, but he didn’t push it. The three of them went back to watching their movie, but the wheels in Richie’s head were spinning the entire time, the seed of an idea taking shape in his mind as he wondered if it would even work. Sure, he would have to resort to doing something he usually did _not_ do, but if it got the desired result, he was willing to try it. Hell, he’d do just about anything for Eddie. He’d come to that conclusion decades ago. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said casually once the credits started rolling on the movie. “I… uh.. gotta go take a leak,” he lied as Devon started playing with the remote and Eddie gave him a curious look.

“There’s a bathroom right there,” Eddie said, pointing toward the closed door across the room.

“I know, but I, uh… it’s not bright enough.. I’ll just be right back, ok?” Richie said lamely, rushing out of the room before Eddie could ask any more pressing questions. He hurried down the hall and back toward the nurses station, where he looked around frantically for Tina. Thankfully, he didn’t have to look very long. He practically ran right into her as she came walking out of a nearby door. _Well, fuck, that was easy. Maybe it’s a sign._

“Hi!” Tina exclaimed in surprise as she recognized him instantly. 

“Hi,” replied Richie awkwardly. “I was actually just looking for you.”

“Oh, does Mr. Kaspbrak need something?” she asked. 

“Well.. not exactly, but.. uh… I was just…” Richie stammered nervously. God, this was going to be _painful_ …. but it was for Eddie. He took a breath, let it out slowly, and before Tina could get a word in edgewise, he launched into a frenzied, tumbling avalanche of words with zero filter or regard for where he was. 

“Look, Tina… can I call you Tina?... That… that man in there? He means the absolute world to me, alright? The fucking world. And he hates hospitals more than like, anything ever, and look, ok, I know that the hospital has like, rules and shit about visiting hours for a reason. And I’m not saying that we should be above those rules, cause like, I respect them, but also… Tina, listen, when I tell you he hates hospitals, I mean he really fuckin _hates_ them. And he’s trying his best in there, because he’s so brave, he’s one of the bravest people I know, actually, he’s a real badass. But.. but I _know_ being left here overnight by himself is going to be so hard for him, and… here’s where I sound like a selfish asshole… it’s going to be even worse for _me,_ so what I’m saying is, if you could just let us stay with him, just for this one night, I will literally do anything you want. I’ll sign a stack of headshots, I’ll take a selfie with you, I’ll give you backstage passes to my next show, I’ll perform at your fuckin birthday party, whatever you want, name it, you’ve got it. But I can’t leave him. I just can’t. I’m begging, here.” 

He stopped talking and tried to catch his breath as Tina just blinked at him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging slightly open. 

“Mr. Tozier, I…”

“Whether or not I tell you to call me Richie depends entirely on what you’re about to say next,” said Richie warily. 

“Well, I mean, they do get kind of strict about the visiting hours here, Mr. Tozier,” Tina said apologetically. 

Richie sighed sadly, swallowing back his disappointment as he adjusted his glasses. Everything in him was screaming at him to protest, to argue, to _insist_ that he be allowed to stay by Eddie’s side, but the rational part of him told him not to push it that far and risk being escorted off the premises. He’d be no help to Eddie at all then. “I… I figured. It’s ok, thank you anyw-“

“But I suppose we could make an exception,” she added, giving him a sympathetic look. 

“I… really?” asked Richie, hardly daring to believe his luck. 

“Yeah,” replied Tina in a low voice as she looked around for witnesses. “I mean, it’s ok _just_ for tonight because I’m on duty, but it will be someone else tomorrow, so-“

“That’s fine,” Richie interrupted her excitedly, grabbing one of her hands without thinking and shaking it vigorously. “Thank you! Thank you so much, you have no idea… _thank you_.”

“You’re wel-“

“And I meant it, whatever you want,” Richie added as he finally let go of the handshake. “Autograph, passes, whatever.”

Tina let out a chuckle. “That’s not necessary, really. I’m happy to do the favor.”

“I’ll give you a signed picture later anyway!” Richie promised her as he turned around and headed back to Eddie’s room, where Eddie and Devon had turned the television to a rerun of _The Golden Girls_ and were laughing hysterically at whatever joke had just happened on screen. He slipped back into his chair and tried to regain his breath, having only just realized how nervous he must have actually been out in the hallway. 

“So,” he said casually, knowing damn well that Eddie was dying of curiosity over what he’d been doing and deciding not to make him ask. “We, uh… don’t have to worry about visiting hours anymore. Not for tonight, anyway.”

Eddie sat up straighter and gave him a questioning look as Devon looked between them with interest. “And why would that be, exactly?”

Richie stared straight ahead at the TV. “I took care of it.”

“You took care of it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” said Eddie in an amused tone. “How exactly did you take care of it?”

Richie sighed dramatically. “For literally the first time in my entire life, I played the celebrity card.” He finally glanced over at Eddie, whose amusement was slowly fading away into something else entirely. 

“But… but you hate using your fame for shit,” Eddie gently protested. “You don’t even use it to get a better table at the Olive Garden.”

“Well, to be fair, Eds, there _are_ no good tables at the Olive Garden,” Richie pointed out. “There’s no good food there either, but that’s beside the point.”

“So you actually played the celebrity card just for me?” asked Eddie, his voice cracking a little as he spoke. 

“What better reason?” replied Richie, giving him a small smile as tearful brown eyes bore into his own. “I didn’t want you to be alone here, and-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Eddie cut it short with a kiss and a tight hug that very nearly took the breath right out of Richie’s lungs. 

“I love you so fucking much,” Eddie murmured into Richie’s neck. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I won’t, because you’re going to be around for a very long time to remind me,” said Richie pointedly. 

“Does this mean we’re going to stay here with Dad tonight?” Devon spoke up hopefully. 

“That’s right, Noodle,” Richie answered him brightly as he stood up from his seat. “So, why don’t you stay here and keep your dad company while I run home and get us a few supplies?”

“Supplies?” said Devon curiously. “Like what?”

Richie rolled his eyes teasingly. “I don’t know, like your pajamas? You don’t want to sleep in those clothes tonight, do ya?”

Devon giggled. “No!”

Richie smiled. “Thought so. Plus we’ll need our toothbrushes and some blankets and stuff for you. I’ll go grab all that, I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Don’t forget to bring me Icky,” Devon requested.

“Never!”

“And make sure you leave food out for Pouncer, he hasn’t eaten since I fed him this morning.”

“I promise. Keep an eye on your old dad,” Richie instructed the boy. “Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

“We’ll be right here,” Eddie promised him with an eye roll as Richie leaned down to kiss him. “Hurry back.”

“Will do, Spaghetti,” said Richie as he backed out of the room, wanting to keep his family in his vision for as long as possible. He made it all the way out of the hospital, into the car, and halfway home before he finally had no choice but to pull over on the side of the road and break down, every tear he had successfully managed to hold in all day letting loose at once like an emotional tidal wave. 

_Stop it_ , he told himself, even as he hugged the steering wheel through his body-wracking sobs. _He’s ok, he’s going to be fine, you have to be strong and stop thinking the worst._

_Stop it._

_STOP IT._

_If you think positively enough, everything will be just. Fucking. Fine._

He kept telling himself that as he drove the rest of the way home, but that didn’t stop him from vomiting in the driveway anyway. 

*

As Richie had unfortunately suspected, despite all of his positive pep talks to Eddie and to himself, the news they received from Eddie’s supervising doctor just over a day later, after what seemed like endless hours of grueling testing, was far from encouraging.

“Simply put,” the doctor said solemnly as he finished giving them the rundown of Eddie’s devastating diagnosis, “The muscles in your heart are damaged. They’re too weak to help it pump properly. That’s why you’ve been experiencing breathing problems and chest pain during physical activity. I’d venture to say that a lot of what you and your primary care doctor thought was just asthma in your adult years was actually the precursor to this.”

Richie’s own chest started to tighten as he felt Eddie squeeze his hand. Neither of them dared to look at each other, as though they instinctively knew that if they did, they would both start crying. Eddie seemed unable to even speak as he absorbed this crushing news. Richie, however, was full of questions that he needed answers to right that minute, or he had the feeling his own heart would burst right out of his chest. 

“But he’ll get better, though, right?” he asked, his voice as strong as he could possibly make it, as though his tone alone had the power to control how bad the situation was. “He can get whatever treatment he needs, and he’ll get better.”

The doctor looked somber as he set his lips in a line and gave them a serious look. “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” he said. “With heart diseases like this, we can certainly control and relieve the symptoms with medications, lifestyle changes, and certain other treatments, but there is no _cure_ , per se.”

There was a tense silence in the hospital room for a moment as those words hung like poison in the air. Richie finally chanced a look over at Eddie, who didn’t look nearly as upset as he’d expected. He just looked bewildered and numb, which seemed, somehow, even worse. 

“Now,” the doctor continued, speaking gently as he turned his attention back onto Eddie. “Given your age, and how far your cardiomyopathy has progressed and how it _will_ continue to worsen, I would highly recommend putting your name on the list for a transplant as soon as possible.”

“A _heart transplant???”_ Eddie exclaimed, the numbness on his face quickly being replaced by an expression of pure horror as he spoke his first words since hearing the diagnosis. “I… I can’t… Richie…” he whimpered pitifully, squeezing his hand so tight that Richie almost lost feeling in his fingers. 

“Shhh,” Richie soothed him, rubbing his thumb as best he could over the skin of the other man’s hand. “It’s ok.” He knew damn well _that_ was a brazen lie, but it was the only thing he could think of to say. What else were you supposed to say when someone was giving you such shattering, life-altering news?

“I know it’s a scary prospect,” the doctor continued sympathetically. “However, in your particular case, I think it might end up being your best option because you’re young and otherwise healthy enough that your survival odds would be quite good. We’ll try you on other treatments first, of course, but if you don’t show signs of improvement with monitoring over the next few months, I’m going to _strongly_ recommend that your name immediately go on that list. The wait for a donor can be quite long.”

“How the hell did this happen to me?” Eddie demanded, his breath shaky as he used his free hand to dab at his eyes. “I’m religious about being healthy, I exercise, I try to eat right… _how_ ?” To be honest, Richie had been asking himself exactly the same thing ever since Eddie’s first night in the hospital, when he’d stayed awake all night in his chair, his thoughts tumbling all over each other as Eddie and Devon slept. Why _was_ this happening to Eddie? _It should be ME. I’m such an unhealthy piece of shit, I only exercise when I’m forced to, I've barely looked at a vegetable in years, why can’t it be happening to me instead?_

“Sometimes, these things can be influenced by genetic factors,” the doctor explained gently. “You mentioned that your father died of heart complications.”

Eddie glanced over at Richie with a look that clearly said _I told you so_ before his eyes widened, a sudden realization seeming to hit him as he turned his attention back to the doctor. “Genetics.. would… is my son at risk for this?” he asked, almost in a whisper, and Richie said a silent prayer of thanks that Devon was at school and not around to witness the look of absolute, unadulterated pain in his father’s eyes right then. 

“That’s hard to say, really,” the doctor answered him truthfully. “I don’t know your son’s medical history, of course, but he seems healthy to me. At his age, I wouldn’t worry.” This seemed to calm Eddie down, but only slightly, and as the doctor launched into an explanation of lifestyle changes and medications that Eddie would have to adhere to from then on, Richie found himself desperately trying to fight back tears as the reality of their new situation began to hit him. 

Eddie wasn’t ok. He’d never be completely ok again, and the very real possibility that this fucking illness could just come swooping in out of nowhere and take Eddie away from him at any time was almost too much for him to bear. However, he also knew that Eddie was going to need him to be strong, more than he’d ever needed him before, so he used the last ounce of strength he could muster to push his despair down. 

_I’m good. I’m strong. I’m a rock._

_I’m a fucking liar, but Eds is going to need me._

Neither of them said much after the doctor left the room to prepare Eddie’s discharge papers. Eddie got dressed while Richie neatened up the room and gathered his things, they collected his prescriptions from the hospital pharmacy, and they left, getting into the car and driving toward the elementary school in contemplative silence. Richie was beginning to think Eddie was never going to say a word, until they had pulled off the highway and were almost at the school, the beautiful blue sky and bright sunshine outside the car windows representing a happiness that, at least in the moment, didn’t exist for them.

“We aren’t telling Devon,” Eddie finally said, his voice shaky and barely audible, as they turned into the school parking lot and joined the line of cars full of parents waiting to pick up their students.

“We have to tell him something,” Richie pointed out. 

“No, we don’t.”

“Eds,” Richie countered gently. “You know he’s going to ask. He saw how you were when you went to the ER. You’re going to be going to a shit ton of appointments and… and, well, he’s a smart kid. He’s going to notice the meds and that you’re not getting… he’ll just… he’ll notice,” he finished weakly, unable to bring himself to actually say out loud what he knew they were both thinking. “We have to tell him _something_.”

Eddie sighed heavily as he stared out of the car window. “I know, but not… not the truth. Not yet, anyway. _I_ can barely handle the truth right now, I don’t want him to have to deal with it.” His voice shook even more as he brought one hand up to his face and let out a barely repressed sob. “I’m so fucking scared, Rich,” he cried, and the anguish in his voice instantly flipped a switch in Richie. He leaned over and enveloped Eddie in a tight hug, gently rubbing circles into his back as he let him sob into his shirt. 

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, placing a soothing kiss onto the side of Eddie’s face. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” cried Eddie, his voice muffled by Richie’s shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” said Richie stoically, carefully breaking from the hug enough so that he could look into Eddie’s shining, tear filled eyes. “We’re going to fight this, every step of the way. Because you’re the bravest son of a bitch I know, and I know you’ve got the fight in you. And because I love you way too much to let anything happen to you. Alright? If you think I’m just going to let you go, I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not fucking happening. You’re not going anywhere, Edward Kaspbrak, and that’s a direct order.”

Eddie gave him a watery smile. “You always were sexy when you got bossy.”

Richie laughed. “Ah, there he is,” he quipped, reaching up to softly brush tears off of Eddie’s cheeks. “It’ll all be ok, Spaghetti. I promise. Remember, I have never in my life broken a promise. Not to my loved ones, anyway.”

“Is that right?”

“Ok, _ok,_ I did promise Stan that I wouldn’t make any circumcision jokes at his and Bill’s wedding, but _other than that one time_ , I have never broken a promise. Especially not to you.”

Eddie let out a trembling laugh and pressed their lips together in one of the most bittersweet kisses they’d ever shared. 

_I fucking mean it, Eds. I am NOT letting this thing destroy you or us, I don’t care WHAT we have to do to beat it._

*

_April 17, 2015_

_What the fuck, man. Just. What the fuck. I’ve had over 24 hours to let this sink in and I still.. just… I can’t. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to undo all the trauma my mom caused me, reminding myself I’m not sick, working on not running for a pill every time I feel achy or a little anxious, and what the fuck does the universe do to me? This absolute fucking BULLSHIT. I know I should probably be sad, I guess? I mean, I am sad, and I do feel sorry for myself, just a little, and I’m more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life, but mostly I’m just angry. I’m beyond angry, I’m pissed the fuck off. I’m pissed at myself for not investigating my symptoms more, I’m pissed at my doctor for not catching this shit sooner, I’m pissed that this feels like my mother getting one last kick in at me from beyond the grave, and most of all? Most of all, I’m pissed that, if all of my research is correct, I’m going to end up leaving both of my boys behind. It may not happen soon, but it will happen, and you have no FUCKING idea how badly I want to just punch something right now._

_*_

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Yes, I’m gay. Yes, the man in those photos with me is my partner. I’m not hiding it anymore, fuck it._

05/08/15

*

_August 14, 2015_

_Well, another year, another summer of us being late getting to our beach vacation. We just haven’t had the time the last two months because of me and my stupid fucking doctor appointments. My medications are working well, for now, to SORT of relieve the symptoms, but Dr. Haley says that there’s only so much longer that they alone will be enough. He went ahead and submitted my name to the list for a donor, because if everything else eventually fails, that WILL be my only option, and I’m trying not to think about the fact that the very idea of surgery scares the fuck out of me, or the fact that the odds of finding a match for me aren’t exactly the greatest anyway. I’m NOT going to think about any of that. Richie thought we should just skip it this year, but I told him there’s no way in hell we’re doing that. I’m going to enjoy this vacation and just spend as much time as possible with my family. It never hit me until recently just how few moments we get on this earth to just be with the ones we love. That’s life’s ultimate cruel joke, isn’t it?_

_*_

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Catch me being a sarcastic purple donkey on this week’s Family Guy! “Not for the first time,” says my other half. I love him, really._

12/18/15

*

_March 20, 2016_

_I ended up in the ER again yesterday afternoon. I was ok, relatively speaking, and they sent me home after a few hours, but Devon woke up from a nightmare screaming for me at 3am, clung to me like a frickin koala when I went into his room, and pretty much demanded answers after he calmed down. So, now he knows (almost) everything. He’s been so quiet all day, which breaks my heart. Pun not intended. I know he needs time to process the full extent of what I just told him, but it still fucks me up to see my kid look that way at his age, you know? Like he has the whole world on his tiny shoulders. This shit isn’t fucking fair. Who do I have to blow to make all of this go away so we can all just go back to how we were before?_

_*_

_June 4, 2016_

_You know what one of the worst things is about being sick? The toll it’s taking on my fucking sex life, man. It’s such bullshit, because now that I’ve pretty much had no choice but to start working from home and Richie has been just taking voiceover work to be around more, we have more time than ever together and we can’t even use it to have sex. Not the way we used to, anyway. The doctor said we could, if we weren’t too strenuous about it, but whenever we try anything slightly more adventurous than hand stuff, either I can’t work up the energy, or Richie freaks out and is terrified that he’s going to hurt me somehow, so it’s…. it’s not going well, let’s put it that way. Goddamn, what I wouldn’t give for just ONE night like we used to have when we first moved back in together._

_*_

_August 6, 2016_

_Last night was only our first night at the beach and I already put a damper on the trip by getting hit with a dizzy spell while Richie and I were rinsing out some dishes. The only casualty was one unfortunate plate, and I was totally fine after a minute, but I think I scared the boys just a little. Richie won’t let me lift a finger for anything now, and Devon crawled into our bed in the middle of the night, with the cat, and slept between us. He hasn’t done that since he was five years old. We should probably look into getting him some counseling once we get back home. But, positive point, it’s another year, another vacation, and I’m still alive. Maybe not quite in the same shape I was last time, but still kicking. I’m trying not to take any moment for granted, I’m really not._

_*_

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_Celebrate Halloween by picking up my friend @RealBillDen’s new book The Attic Room. Maybe this one actually has an ending!_

10/31/16

*

_February 4, 2017_

_Richie brought up the idea of moving AGAIN last night while we were laying in bed watching TV. God, I love him, I do, and I know I’m the one who keeps telling him he should go back to working more and not put his entire career on permanent scale-back just because of me. Netflix wants him for a comedy special, and he doesn’t want to do it, but I’m practically BEGGING him not to throw an opportunity like that away. So I KNOW that’s part of the reason why he thinks we should all move back to New York, or maybe even out to LA. It’s so he wouldn’t have to worry about leaving us behind for long stretches of time whenever he works. And, I guess he does have a point when he says there are more and probably better doctors in either of those places, and possibly even a better chance at getting a donor heart sooner. I get why he thinks it’s a good idea. I really do._

_But hell if I don’t just get so irritated whenever he brings it up. I’ve told him I’m not sure I even WANT to leave New Hampshire quite yet, not when we have a home and a life here, and Devon likes his school and his friends. To Richie’s credit, he does drop the subject when I shut it down, but.. ugh, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s even just the moving thing that bugs me, it’s the fact that lately, I would say ever since the summer, he generally just treats me like I’m made of glass. I understand why, I know watching me gradually get worse must scare him so badly, but I also can’t stand the way it makes me feel when he acts like I’m going to break at any moment if I so much as sneeze wrong._

_God, I know it’s not his fault, I KNOW he isn’t my mother and he actually has legitimate reasons to want to protect me, but fuck, I miss the days when I could get up and pour my own glass of water without him watching me like a hawk, or try to take over and get it for me, like the very walk to the fridge is going to kill me._

_It’s fine. It’s totally fine, I’m just whining. I understand, Richie. I love you. But like… can you fuckin tone it down?_

_*_

**April 2017**

_“Jesus, Richie, can you fucking not?”_

_“What?”_

_“I’ve been changing the cases on my own pillows for over thirty years, I think I’m still capable of doing that even with a heart problem.”_

_“I was just trying to help, Eds. I heard you make a noise, so-“_

_“You heard me make a… what the fuck, I did NOT make a noise, the fuck are you even talking about?”_

_“You groaned, and I thought maybe you were having a hard time, that’s all. Sorry.”_

_“I’m a grown man with an illness, Richie, I’m not a five year old, and it would be super great if maybe, once in a while, you could remember that and act like you’re in a relationship with a MAN and not a Faberge egg.”_

_“I SAID I was SORRY. And you know, it wouldn’t hurt YOU to remember sometimes that this isn’t exactly a cake walk for me, either.”_

_“Oh, I’m so sorry that MY illness is so inconvenient for YOU, that’s so thoughtless of me, my bad.”_

_“That’s not what I fucking meant and you know it, Eddie.”_

_“Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for you if you were off working every now and again and not constantly hanging around waiting to coddle me if I get a hangnail.”_

_“Jesus fuck, Eddie, I’ve told you I don’t feel comfortable going off for months at a time when you’re so sick-“_

_“I’M ALWAYS GOING TO BE SICK, LOOK AT ME. You acting like a reincarnation of my mother and smothering me while throwing your entire career away isn’t going to change that!”_

_“Ok, that is NOT FAIR, EDDIE. That woman was an abuser, she had no reason in the world to treat you like that other than her own fucking selfishness. That’s not even remotely the same thing as BEING CONSTANTLY WORRIED SICK ABOUT THE MAN YOU LOVE WHO HAS A LEGITIMATE MEDICAL CONDITION_ …”

“ _WHICH IS UNDER CONTROL…”_

_“... WHICH COULD TAKE A BAD TURN AT ANY TIME! So yeah, maybe I hover, maybe I overprotect you, maybe I SHOULD go back to working more, but how can I when that means leaving you for weeks, sometimes months? What if something happens, what if you end up in the hospital, who’s going to be there for you, who’s going to take care of our child-“_

_“Bill and Stan are around-“_

_“Bill and Stan aren’t your boyfriend, I AM! If you would just consider mov-“_

_“AGAIN WITH THE MOVING! Why don’t you move to the couch downstairs if you love MOVING so fucking much.”_

_“You know what? Maybe I will.”_

_“Fine!”_

_“Fine!”_

“Dad?”

Devon’s hesitant voice knocked Richie out of his mental rehash of the fight that had just led to him standing outside the closed door of his and Eddie’s bedroom, tears stinging his eyes as his hands shook from adrenaline. He turned and locked eyes with the boy, who was poking his head cautiously out of his bedroom, his face clouded over with worry. 

“Don’t worry about it, Noodle,” said Richie, trying to keep his voice steady even as he clutched his pillow and a blanket under one arm in a way that would have made it obvious to anyone, even a twelve year old, that something very unpleasant indeed had just occurred. 

“You guys were yelling,” Devon said quietly. 

“It’s ok, Dev, really,” Richie assured him. “It was just a fight. Fights happen.”

“But you never fight.”

“All couples fight, kid. You’ll learn that when you’re older and fall in love,” said Richie with a sigh. “It’s ok, really. Go back to bed, alright?”

Devon looked skeptical, but nodded. “Ok. Night.”

“Night, Macaroni.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Devon disappeared back into his room and Richie cast one last glance at his own bedroom door before he sniffed and carried himself and his bedding downstairs. He set himself up on the sofa and turned the television on, but he couldn’t concentrate on it. All he could do was replay the fight in his head, over and over, until everything blurred together and gave him the beginnings of a headache. He and Eddie hardly ever fought, not really. In the old days, they may have argued over stupid, petty shit once in a while; what couple didn’t? But ever since Eddie had gotten sick, well… sometimes the fights were more intense, more frequent, stung a little more until they eventually blew over, but this was the first time they’d ever slept in separate rooms of the house over it. 

It hurt like hell, to be honest. 

_It’s ok, drama queen. That fight wasn’t even that bad. You’ll say you’re sorry in the morning, kiss him, and this will blow over like it always does._

He sighed, curled up on the corner of the couch, flipped through the channels until he found a marathon of old _Happy Days_ episodes, and watched it without really absorbing the plots. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he never even noticed that another person had come into the room until Eddie was plopping down beside him, his breathing heavy and slightly strained from his walk down the stairs. The other man reached for his hand and lightly intertwined their pinkies without making eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” said Eddie quietly after a moment or two, his voice just barely audible over the sound of the show. 

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Richie protested, turning to face him as sudden relief washed over him. “I know I can be overprotective lately, and I try not to be because I know you hate it, but sometimes…. sometimes I can’t help it, Eds.”

“I know,” Eddie soothed, using his free hand to cup Richie’s cheek and rub his thumb over the skin. “I know, I understand why you do it, I just wish you didn’t have such a good reason to do it. Does that make sense?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah,” he said as he brought his hand up to cover Eddie’s. “I’m sorry,” he said again, swallowing down a lump in his throat as he looked into those deep, brown eyes that had seized control of his heart from the first moment he’d ever seen them. 

“I’m sorrier,” Eddie said with a grin. 

“Are you really arguing with me over who’s more sorry?”

“Yes.”

“Idiot,” said Richie as he leaned in to kiss him softly. 

“Just promise me you’ll _try_ to dial it down, just a bit,” added Eddie as he broke from the kiss and fixed Richie with an earnest look. “I’m not completely incapacitated quite yet, so while I still feel somewhat normal I just want to be _treated_ normally. Ok?”

“I can’t promise much, but I’ll do my best,” Richie assured him. “And I shouldn’t keep pushing you about moving, I know, I just-“

“No, actually, you have a good point about that,” Eddie interjected, much to Richie’s surprise. 

“I… I do?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I _do_ want you to keep going with your career, and it’s really not fair to either of us, or to Devon, really, if you have to keep leaving us for such huge stretches of time in order to do that, so… I… I’m not sure that I want to live in LA, though. But I think I could really get behind a move to New York. At least I’m familiar with New York.”

“Don’t feel like you _have_ to do this,” Richie protested as he took both of Eddie’s hands into his own. 

“Oh, trust me, I _don’t_ feel like I have to do it,” said Eddie cheekily. “If I didn’t want to do it, I just fuckin wouldn’t. You know how stubborn I am.”

Richie snorted. “That’s for damn sure.”

“I have a couple of conditions, though,” Eddie added. 

“Oh?”

“First of all, you’re accepting that Netflix offer.”

“I will. I’ll iron out the details this week, just for you.”

“Good. Secondly, I don’t want to rush into this move. For one, I don’t want to just rip Devon away from everything he knows all at once. And for two, I want enough time to research doctors and facilities, I want my doctors here to have some input on where I should transfer my care, all of that shit.”

Richie nodded. “Yeah, of course! I didn’t think we should rush it anyway, at least not until after the summer.”

“Which brings me to point three,” Eddie continued. “I want one last trip to our beach before we do this. Ok? Just one last summer before we say goodbye.”

Richie winced. “Only if you agree to never phrase it like that again.”

Eddie let out a low laugh. “I’m sorry.” He kissed him lightly on the lips and then carefully maneuvered himself into the perfect cuddling position, his head resting comfortably on Richie’s chest, so reminiscent of their younger days that Richie had to blink back fresh tears as he turned the volume up a bit on the television and wrapped his arm around the other man. 

“So, what’s this episode about?” asked Eddie with a labored yawn. 

“I think this is the one where Fonzie says _AAAAAY,”_ joked Richie as they settled in together. 

“Ah, of course. My favorite episode.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks tomatoes* DONT KILL ME YET, I swear I’m going to fix it for them! :D


	12. When Destiny Calls You, You Must Be Strong

**August 2017**

_The street outside looked the same as in his youth, and yet different. Empty. Eerie. Quiet except for the organ music drifting out from inside the familiar church, where he’d spent so many hours of his childhood sitting outside, listening with rapt attention to the harmonious sound of the choir. He wandered up the cobblestone path leading toward the front doors and cautiously pushed them open, taking trepid steps down the linoleum hallway and into the chapel itself. The chapel, too, looked just as he remembered it from his stolen peeks through the windows, only… oh shit, he’d just walked into a funeral, hadn’t he? Yep. There was the pews full of mourners, the solemn priest standing behind the podium facing them, the casket up in the front, closed and adorned with sprays of red and yellow flowers. Despite the noise the doors to the chapel made as they closed behind him, no one seemed to notice or care that he’d just entered._

_He cautiously stepped further inside and prepared to take a seat in the back before anyone could notice and glare at him for so rudely interrupting their memorial service, but the sight of the portrait mounted on a stand beside the casket suddenly caught his attention, and he felt an icy weight settle in his stomach as he recognized his own face staring back at him. He’d have known that picture anywhere; he could remember the exact moment it had been taken, even. He’d been sitting on the front stoop of the Derry house at sunset, a tiny, sleepy Devon snugly wrapped in his arms, and had turned his head at just the right moment for Richie to capture a shot of him smiling. A whole, happy future behind his brown eyes, forever enshrined on a digital file in a virtual cloud._

_Fuck. FUCK. This was… this couldn’t be… but it had to be…_

_He wandered anxiously down the carpeted aisle between the two sections of pews, scanning faces that paid him no mind as the unseen organist played on. There were his co-workers, old college acquaintances, a few of his best clients. Myra. His parents, the unexpected sight of whom caused him to let out a small yelp of shock._

_“Mommy?” he whispered as loudly as he dared. “D-dad?” He tried to focus on his father’s face, but it was frustratingly featureless, a generic, blank slate that could just as well have been anyone in the world, anyone at all, but that he somehow KNEW was the father he hadn’t seen since he was six years old. They both ignored him as though he were invisible. He continued down the aisle, the faces becoming more familiar and looking more upset the further up he went. Mike Hanlon, letting slow falling tears betray his forced brave front. Ben and Beverly, leaning into each other as they cried softly. Bill, sobbing heavily into Stan’s shoulder. Stan himself holding tightly onto his husband as tears flowed freely down his face._

_All of these were quite upsetting, of course, but none so much as the sight of Devon sitting there in the front row, his entire small body wracked with heart wrenching sobs as he held on for dear life to Richie, who was, surprisingly, the only one NOT crying. The man looked absolutely shell shocked, his eyes glassy and lifeless as they stared straight ahead at the casket as though it contained not merely a body, but Richie’s own heart and soul as well. He may not have been shedding any tears, but the pure despair on his face was evident all the same. It was the face of a man who had already cried every tear he had in him, and now was just a destroyed husk of what he once was._

_“Richie?” Eddie said, trying to put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder and being rudely greeted with a handful of air instead. “Richie???? RICHIE!” he exclaimed desperately, standing directly in front of him and doing anything he could think of to get his attention, but to no avail. The dull blue eyes behind the foggy glasses still stared straight through him. “Richie! Rich.. baby, I’m here, I’m right here!”_

_He let out a frustrated cry and turned his attention to his son, his stomach twisting into knots at the heartbroken look on Devon’s face. “Devon… Bunny I’m right here, it’s me, it’s Daddy, honey, look at me. God, please look at me, Bunny. DEVON!” he cried out in anguish. “ANYBODY, PLEASE, LOOK AT ME, I’M HERE, I’M NOT READY FOR THIS YET, I’M NOT DEAD YET, I’M RIGHT HERE! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, I’M HEEERE!”_

“I’M HERE!” he shouted as his eyes bolted open, his breathing shallow as he screamed himself awake in the early morning light of his and Richie’s beach house bedroom. “I’m here, I’m not dead, I’m here!”

“Eddie!” he heard Richie exclaim. “Jesus, not again… Eddie.. Eds, I’m here,” the other man intoned softly, immediately wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close to his chest. “Shhh… you’re ok. You’re ok, Spaghetti,” he soothed, rocking them back and forth as Eddie let out gasping sobs and tried to regain his normal breathing. 

“Richie,” he whimpered, focusing on the assuaging safety of his partner’s strong arms and not on the way his chest tightened with each cry. “Rich…”

“I’m here, Eds. I’ve got you,” Richie assured him with a kiss to the forehead. “I’m not gonna let go, alright? Breathe with me,” he said, taking large breaths in and letting them out slowly, a pattern that Eddie tried his best to mimic until he felt somewhat better. He allowed Richie to sink them both back into the pillows as his body went limp from the effort of recovering from his nightmare. 

“Bad dream, huh?” said Richie sympathetically, stating the obvious as he reached a hand up to stroke Eddie’s hair. 

“You could say that,” grumbled Eddie as he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. As normal as it could get these days, anyway. Being held by Richie helped a lot, but he still felt uneasy. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Eddie shook his head. “Not really.” The last thing he felt like doing was describing to Richie the horrible images he’d just endured in his own brain. Not necessarily because he didn’t want to relive them (that was a losing battle, since he’d been having similar nightmares for months ever since his doctor had told him he was still deteriorating, despite all the treatments), but because he had the increasingly sinking feeling, with every passing day, that Richie was unwittingly getting closer and closer to the day in which he’d have to actually experience every last moment of it for real. If Eddie could put that off for him as long as possible, he was going to. 

“Ok,” said Richie, placing a soft kiss to the tip of Eddie’s nose. “Are you hungry? You want me to make you some pancakes?”

Eddie felt himself smile a little, his eyes locking with Richie’s as his stomach growled in agreement. “I _am_ kind of hungry, actually,” he said, softly nuzzling his face into the crook of Richie’s neck to kiss the warm skin there. “I guess they have to be those heart healthy pancake lies, though, right?”

“Well, yes,” Richie said with an apologetic grin. “However, we do have fresh blueberries in the fridge, and the orange juice is fresh as fuck.”

“That works,” said Eddie happily, sighing with relief that another night was over and he was back in the real world with his family, even as fucked up as that reality was. He rolled onto his back and watched as Richie got up out of bed, biting his bottom lip at the sight of those broad shoulders straining against Richie’s grey T-shirt. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to just jump him like he used to. 

“I’m gonna go handle breakfast, you relax and take your time getting up,” Richie said to him with a yawn and a stretch. “I put clean towels in the bathroom for you, if you’re going to take a shower.”

A shower sounded delightful, actually. Eddie slowly made his way out of bed after Richie left the room, pausing to catch his breath several times. He became frustratingly winded more frequently now, the slightest bit of activity usually causing him to have to pause for unwanted breaks that made every task seem to take hours. He padded into the bathroom and carefully got into the shower, letting the hot water run over his body as he closed his eyes and shook away the last remnants of his nightmare. They had precious little time left before their beach vacation was over, this day was a gift, and he wasn’t going to waste it mulling over something he had no control over. 

By the time he had finished his shower, put on fresh clothes, and wandered out into the kitchen, Richie was already hard at work flipping pancakes on the stove while Devon stood beside him, casually eating handfuls of blueberries from the large, full bowl on the counter. 

“I watched your interview last night,” Devon was saying to him through a mouthful of berries. 

“Christ,” Richie groaned. Eddie hung back in the doorway as he watched the man transfer a pancake onto a paper plate and begin to stir the rest of the mix to make more. “I’d forgotten that thing was airing already. I was on so much cold medicine when I filmed that, I can’t even remember what they asked me. How’d I do?”

“Honestly?”

“Please.”

“You called the director of your cartoon an asshole and challenged him to a fist fight,” replied Devon seriously. 

“I _what???_ ”

Devon let out a snort. “I’m kidding! You did fine, you just sounded kinda dumb.”

Richie narrowed his eyes at the boy and used his stirring spoon to wipe a streak of cold pancake mix down Devon’s cheek. “Become a parent, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. So rewarding, they said.”

“Hey!” Devon screeched, laughing as he reached into the bowl for a blueberry, which he tossed at Richie’s face. “That’s child abuse, you know.”

“No it’s not, but this is,” replied Richie, grabbing a nearby can of whipped cream and spraying a dollop onto the tip of the boy’s nose. Devon retaliated with several more berries, which bounced off of Richie’s glasses and landed unceremoniously onto the kitchen floor. Eddie felt an unexpected wave of sadness wash over him as he observed their gleeful banter, suddenly remembering that it may not be too long until they’d be left on their own and Eddie wouldn’t be around to hear his son’s laughter or to see the corners of Richie’s eyes crinkle behind his glasses as he smiled. 

His chest began to hurt, but for once he didn’t think it had anything to do with his medical condition. 

“Hey, Dad!” Devon’s bright voice broke through Eddie’s mental pity party as his son crossed over to him and took him by the hand. “Come sit, me and Richie are making pancakes.”

“Is that what this is?” Eddie asked teasingly as he allowed Devon to lead him over to a seat at the kitchen bar, where a glass of orange juice and a jar of strawberry jam was already waiting next to the plastic organizer containing his morning medications. “Cause from where I was standing it looked more like a food fight,” he added, brushing a finger through the batter on his son’s face and holding the evidence up for emphasis.

“It’s good, old fashioned father/son warfare,” spoke up Richie with a smile as he added a couple of loose blueberries to the top of a stack of cakes and slid the plate over to Eddie, along with a fork and a butter knife. 

“Richie started it,” Devon pointed out indignantly as he reached for a paper towel to wipe his face with. 

“To the surprise of nobody,” said Eddie with an amused smile as Richie rolled his eyes and flipped him the bird. 

“So, Dad,” said Devon, seating himself down on the chair beside Eddie and propping his elbows up on the counter as he intently watched him take his pills. 

“What’s up, Bunny?”

“Do you think you’ll feel good enough to go onto the beach today?” Devon asked meekly. His eyes were full of hope, and Eddie instantly felt terrible. The family had been staying at the beach house for almost three weeks, and in that time he had only managed to work up the interest to actually step foot on the beach twice. Truth be told, it wasn’t _always_ because he felt sick. Sometimes it was because sitting outside and watching other people possessing the energy to actually enjoy life without the ever-looming shadow of death over their head was too much for him, so he just found it easier to stay inside and read a book or watch television. 

“Oh, uh…” he stammered, unsure of what answer to give his son. 

“We don’t have to go far, just a little ways away from the house,” Devon pointed out helpfully. “I’ll bring your beach chair.”

“Hell, Eds, you don’t even have to walk,” Richie interjected pointedly. “How about I piggyback carry you down there, hmm?” 

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Richie insisted, his tone light but his face conveying without a doubt that he’d definitely been noticing Eddie’s recent tendency to isolate. He’d said as much to him several times since they’d arrived; it had even resulted in a small, late night fight in hushed voices once that, thankfully, had only lasted for a short time before they were hugging and kissing in between whispered apologies to each other. He could only imagine how this entire situation felt from Richie’s perspective, so he understood the other man’s frustration, but the constant knowledge that he was worrying his family only seemed to make Eddie’s malaise worse. 

“Just for a little while, Dad?” Devon pressed hopefully. He pouted dramatically as his eyes widened like a sad puppy’s, and Eddie felt himself begin to give in.

“You know what?” he said with a conceding sigh. “Why not? It’s a beautiful day.”

“There’s the spirit, Spaghetti,” said Richie happily as Devon grinned and gave Eddie a joyful hug. Admittedly, the sight of his boys looking so elated at the prospect of him joining them _did_ significantly lift his mood. 

“But I fully expect that piggyback ride,” Eddie added with a sly grin in Richie’s direction. “You know, if you think you’re strong enough, Mr. Hollywood.”

“I’m personally offended that you would even suggest that I can’t carry my man,” gasped Richie exaggeratedly. “Now we can see where Macaroni got that feisty attitude from.”

“Yeah, yeah,” teased Eddie, rolling his eyes as he ruffled Devon’s hair with one hand and gave Richie a playful middle finger with the other. 

Ninety minutes, one completed pancake breakfast, two packed tote bags, and a promised piggyback ride later, Eddie found himself settled into a chair on the beach within sight of their house, slathering on sunscreen as Richie sprawled out onto a blanket beside him. Devon played happily a few yards away at the edge of the water, collecting shells with another boy that Eddie had never seen before, but whom he assumed must be one of the many new friends that his son frequently seemed to make every summer. _Christ, you don’t even know what your own kid has been doing all summer while you’ve been locking yourself away in the house. Way to go, Kaspbrak._

He watched them play for awhile from behind his sunglasses, smiling to himself as he realized that they reminded him more than a little bit of himself and Richie when they were decades younger, a heartwarming portrait of what they might have been like in an alternate reality where they’d been able to spend more than just one day of their childhood together. _God, to be that young again. And maybe do a few things differently._

“Hey, Eds, check this shit out,” said Richie, his voice snapping Eddie out of his nostalgic flashback as he scooted close to him and held his phone in front of his face. “Looks like Ben finally got his own Instagram.” Eddie squinted down at the screen, which was displaying an adorable selfie featuring Ben, Bev, and their baby daughter Lucy, all looking happily up at the camera. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie said with a smile as he gazed at the happy family. “Lucy looks just like Bev.” He felt a brief wave of sadness again at the sight of his friends seemingly living their best life without having to worry about things like health problems, doctors, insurance issues, or the terrifying prospect of having to leave each other behind forever at any given moment. _Really, what the fuck? What did I do in a past life that I’m being punished for now? Was I a serial killer or something?_ He glanced away from the phone and turned his attention back to Devon, who had wandered away from his little friend and was heading back in the direction of his parents with an eager smile on his face. 

“Hey, Dad! Look at this!” he exclaimed, looking pleased with himself as he ran up to Eddie’s chair. He stuck his hand out, offering him an object which turned out to be a seashell. “Look, it’s shaped like a smiley face!” Devon said breathlessly, leaning down to wrap his skinny arms around Eddie’s neck as he waited for his father to inspect his new treasure. Admittedly, it kind of _did_ look like a smiley face. It was almost completely round, with crude looking gashes cut into it in a rough approximation of where the eyes and mouth would be on a face. 

“That’s so cool, Bunny!” Eddie agreed, placing the shell between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up for Richie to see. “Hey, Rich, look, it looks like your face on set before they put you in the makeup chair,” he said teasingly, grinning when he received an eye roll and a middle finger from the other man in response. 

“Wow, Eds, you’re so hilarious, maybe _you_ wanna be the comedian from now on?” said Richie dryly, clearly trying to hide a smile as he went back to scrolling through his phone.

“Bet I’d have a built in fanbase,” replied Eddie. “You’ve seen how thirsty people get when you post pictures of me.” 

“Mmm, that’s because they haven’t ever had to deal with you bitching at them first thing in the morning about the right way to fold the clean towels.”

“Looooove youuuuuu,” said Eddie with a soft tap to the brim of his boyfriend’s baseball hat. 

“Yeah, yeah,” mumbled Richie with a smile. “I guess I love you, too.”

Eddie grinned and turned his focus back onto Devon, who had placed his own hand next to Eddie’s and was looking down at the two with a curious expression on his face. 

“Something on your mind, there, Bunny?” he asked.

“Did you ever notice that we have the same hands?” replied Devon, a question that gave Eddie pause for a moment as he glanced down at their hands and considered them carefully. It was an odd thing that he’d never even stopped to think about, but the boy was right. Other than the obvious size difference, their hands _did_ look similar, right down to the way that they each had a small freckle at the base of the pinky finger. 

“You’re right,” he agreed thoughtfully, meeting Devon’s eyes and giving him a small smile. “We do have _exactly_ the same hands.” Devon grinned and turned to head back toward his friend, leaving Eddie with a strange feeling that he couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t sadness, exactly, but it felt extremely similar. He frowned and reached down into one of the beach totes for his own phone, letting out a grunt of frustration when he couldn’t find it. 

“Eds?” said Richie, glancing at him worriedly over the sunglasses that were bulkily shoved over his real ones. “Are you o-“

“Where the FUCK is my phone?” Eddie exclaimed frantically, moving his hand around in the bag as he desperately tried to locate the device. 

“Jesus, Eddie, calm down,” said Richie, his voice full of concern as he gently took hold of Eddie’s wrist and lifted it out of the bag. “It’s not in that bag, it’s in the other one,” he added, reaching into the cloth tote at his feet and retrieving the phone, which he handed to Eddie with a worried frown. “What’s the matter?”

Eddie hurriedly unlocked the phone and started to navigate to his photo albums, his eyes wildly scanning each photo as he scrolled. _It has to be here, I know it has to…_

“What has to be there?” asked Richie, slightly startling Eddie, who hadn’t realized that he’d actually been speaking out loud. 

“Those old family pictures…. the ones I scanned last summer and put in the cloud,” Eddie mused as he continued to scroll through the album. “I know there was a picture.. one of my dad holding me when I was a baby... I have to find it,” he murmured as he tried to fight the sudden tightness in his chest. “I can’t remember his hands… FUCK, where is it???” he exclaimed, frustrated, as his eyes landed on seemingly every photo in existence except for the one he was looking for. 

“Shhh,” said Richie softly, cautiously reaching over and placing a hand over his. “Calm down, Eds, ok? It’s there, we’ll find it.” He gently took the phone out of his hand and began scrolling through the album himself while Eddie sat up in his chair and tried not to cry. 

“Here’s one,” announced Richie after a moment, holding the phone back out to Eddie, who excitedly took it from him and glanced down at the screen. There it was, a photo of him and his father taken when Eddie couldn’t have been more than a year old. His dad was proudly smiling at the camera and holding onto him as Eddie stood up in his lap, an angle that caused half of his dad’s face to be hidden away from view, but he didn’t mind that so much. He already knew what his father’s face looked like; he’d curiously studied the framed photo that his mother kept hanging in the living room for his entire childhood a thousand times, so the fact that his dad’s face shared so many similar features to himself and Devon wasn’t anything new. 

The important part, the reason why he’d been so desperate to locate this photograph in particular, was his father’s hands, which were clearly visible to the camera as he securely held onto his son. Eddie pinched the phone screen and zoomed in, his eyes studying every detail of the hands that he could make out. He felt a surge of sadness as he glanced from his father’s to his own, noticing just how similar they looked and just how much Devon had inherited from both of them… how much Devon’s possible future children might inherit that Eddie wasn’t going to get to see….

The sadness quickly transformed into full blown heartache as he removed his sunglasses to swipe at the tears that had formed and were making their way out of his eyes. God, couldn’t he ever just enjoy one day with his family without having a whole existential crisis? 

“Eddie?”

“I hate this, Richie. I fucking _hate_ this,” Eddie murmured through his tears as he tried to keep his voice under control for the sake of not attracting the attention of everyone else on the beach, let alone scaring his son. He felt Richie pull himself into a sitting position and place one hand gingerly on his knee.

“Oh, Eds,” he said soothingly. “I know what this must feel like for-“

“You don’t, though,” Eddie interrupted him with a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Richie, but you really… you _don’t_ know what this feels like. At all.” He felt terrible, but it was like he couldn’t help it; all of the feelings he’d been trying so hard to brush off ever since his last medical appointment were rushing to the surface all at once, and he knew Richie would understand in the end. He would. But he had to get at least a little bit off his chest. 

Richie recoiled slightly, his expression clearly surprised even though Eddie couldn't see his eyes. “Eddie, I.. I know I’m not in your exact position, but I still-“

“You’re right, you aren’t in my position,” Eddie agreed, staring straight ahead toward Devon and his friend, which only caused his storm of emotions to grow stronger. “I’m the one who’s dying, Richie. I’m the one who isn’t going to be here to watch my son grow into a man, or be there for him during that journey. I’m the one who has to leave him and _you_ behind, and I fucking hate it. I hate that you have the energy to play with him and I don’t, I hate that you’re the fun parent now more than ever. I hate that the older he gets the less he’ll remember, until one day he’s in _his_ forties and he can’t even remember what his father’s hands looked like unless he goes searching for a fucking picture because that’s all that will be left!” 

“But Eddie, you aren’t fucking dead yet,” Richie retorted sharply. “You’re not dead and you won’t be, not for a long-“

“I WILL BE,” Eddie exclaimed in as hushed a voice as he could manage while still getting his point across. “That stupid fucking hospital beeper they make me carry around in case there’s suddenly a heart available, you think that thing is _ever_ going to go off?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Richie insisted. “And yes, I do understand how this must feel for you, and _my_ point, that I’ve been trying to point out to you this whole vacation, is that you’re just wasting the time we have together. Devon doesn’t play with you because he’s scared to death of bothering you when you’re inside all day. He thinks stress is going to make you sicker so he tries not to give you any.”

Eddie covered his face with one hand and began to cry harder, Richie’s strong arms wrapping around him feeling like a beacon of light in a raging storm. He sank into them, letting himself be comforted as he watched Devon glancing over in their direction with concern. 

“You’re going to be ok, Eds,” Richie said softly into his ear. “I don’t care if I have to donate all the money I have to the hospital to bump you up that list, but one way or another you _are_ getting that heart. Understand?”

Eddie nodded wordlessly, wrapping one arm around Richie to pull him closer. 

“But in the meantime, don’t be a stranger,” Richie continued, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I know this whole thing is just… it’s too much. I know. You have every right to feel the way you do. And if I were you, I’m not sure _I_ wouldn’t want to just hide myself away all the time, either. But like.. fuck, Eds. We both love you so much and we fuckin miss you. Especially Devon. That boy adores you, don’t take his dad away from him so soon. You know?”

Eddie sighed and broke away just enough to pull Richie’s sunglasses off his face. “How about I make more of an effort if you promise to just get prescription sunglasses already?” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood a little. 

Richie burst out laughing and kissed him, the press of their lips together still making Eddie’s knees just as weak as it had the very first time. “See, this is exactly why you aren’t allowed to leave us, Spaghetti,” he said, tossing the sunglasses into one of the beach totes. “Who’s going to tell me I look like a dork wearing two pairs of glasses?”

Eddie smiled. “I’m sure Devon would be more than happy to take care of that.”

“Probably. He’s definitely his father’s snarky son, but I’d much rather it be you,” Richie pointed out, punctuating his words with another quick kiss. “So you have to stick around, Shithead.”

Eddie smiled and scooted over, pulling Richie down next to him in the chair and wrapping both arms around him tightly. “Who you calling a shithead, Dickwad?”

“Assface.”

“Twatwaffle.”

“Asshole.”

“Fuck you, dude,” said Eddie with a playful grin as he pressed his head against one of Richie’s shoulders. 

“Fuck youuuu,” replied Richie, kissing the top of his head as the two of them settled in to watch Devon in the distance.

*

“Hey, Dad?”

“What?” asked Richie, his eyes narrowed at the television screen in deep concentration as his hands gripped the small, plastic steering wheel that was currently propelling Yoshi’s little racecar down the track with disappointing results. It was late afternoon on the very last day of their vacation, and the entire family had plans to make dinner together and watch a movie that night, but for now, Eddie was resting up and Richie and Devon had settled in for a nice, long marathon of _Mario Kart_ while they waited for him. 

“Can I ask you a question?” asked Devon, expertly guiding Baby Mario to the end of the final lap with his own steering wheel and finishing in first place with zero difficulty. 

“You might as well,” muttered Richie with a frustrated sigh. “I’m clearly not getting out of twelfth place because that dumb fucker Luigi keeps throwing shells at me, so fuck him and all y’all.” He tossed the controller onto the couch and turned to Devon, who looked like he had a whole lot to say but no idea how to begin. 

“What’s up, Macaroni?” he asked lightly. 

“How’d you and Dad meet?”

Well, _there_ was a question he hadn’t been expecting. “We met on vacation when we were kids, Noodle. You know that,” he replied curiously. “You’ve seen those pictures that I keep with me and that your dad keeps on his dresser.”

“Yeah, but like, you guys never told me the _entire_ story,” Devon protested as the game brought them back to the racecourse menu. “It was at a beach and that’s all I know.”

Richie smiled. “Well, I’ll tell you the story, but why the sudden curiosity?” he asked, suspecting that he already knew at least _one_ source of Devon’s sudden interest. He hadn’t exactly failed to notice his son’s new little friend, or the way Devon’s face lit up like a Christmas tree every time they played together on the beach or strolled down the boardwalk. Richie knew that look. He was pretty sure he’d _invented_ that look back in the late ‘80s. 

“No reason,” said Devon casually. 

“You sure?” Richie pressed in a teasing tone.

“Oh my god, I’m just curious,” Devon whined. 

“Ok, ok,” Richie conceded. “Well, first of all, the year was 1988. We were just about the same age as you and… Trevor? Isn’t that your little friend’s name?”

“Anyway?” Devon pressed, ignoring the question even though his cheeks took on an ever so slight tinge of pink at the mention. 

“Sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah, 1988. Politics were a real shitshow and we were all collectively choking on hairspray fumes, but this was also the year that gave us _Beetlejuice_ and the Rick Astley classic “Never Gonna Give You Up,” so those were a nice distraction…”

“Daaaad,” said Devon with a sarcastic eye roll. 

“Right, yeah, ok. Anyway, every summer your grandparents and Uncle Stan’s parents would take us all to the beach in Maine, and let me tell you, the only thing in Turquoise Bank that was even remotely interesting for kids was the local arcade. So this summer I’m just training every day at _Street Fighter_ , getting really great at it. I mean, like, really great. No one in that entire town could beat me at that game, because if they tried they would immediately be handed their ass on a silver platter. That’s how good I was.”

“Congratulations,” said Devon sardonically, raising his eyebrows in a perfect mimicry of his father’s famous judgemental stare. 

“You make fun all you want, but that was legit bragging rights back then,” replied Richie haughtily. “So, this one day I leave the game to go to the bathroom, and I come back and all of a sudden there’s this strange kid just standing there. At MY _Street Fighter_ game. Like they didn’t even realize that was _my_ game, you know? The fuckin balls.”

“Did you tell them to get lost?” asked Devon.

“I considered that, actually. For about three seconds. But then the kid turned around, and I made the mistake of looking into his eyes,” said Richie with a sigh. “They were so big and brown and pretty. You know, just like the ones you inherited from him.” He smiled as he watched a happy expression of realization spread across the boy’s face. “Anyway, instead of telling him to kick rocks, I decided to just spend the next thirty years falling in love with him instead. I’m still doing it, actually. Just a little bit more every day.”

“You know, if this whole stand-up comedy thing doesn’t end up panning out, you could always go into writing greeting cards for Hallmark,” said a voice from the hallway. Richie and Devon both turned to see Eddie standing against the frame leading from the hall to the living room, his arms crossed and his face full of soft adoration as he observed them on the sofa, his eyes still just as beautiful as they’d been in Richie’s memory. 

“I’m just trying to give the boy the whole story just as it happened, Spaghetti,” said Richie with a wink.

“Dad!” exclaimed Devon happily, jumping up and rushing over to his father, whose hand he grabbed as he began gently dragging him over to the couch. “Come sit with us! We’re playing _Mario Kart_!”

“Sweet,” replied Eddie as he settled in on the couch. “Who’s winning?”

“I am,” said Devon boastfully as he sat down beside him. “I’m kicking Richie’s ass.”

“That’s my boy,” said Eddie proudly, wrapping one arm around his son as Richie rolled his eyes. “I’ve taught you well.”

“Wow, I thought there was only one mean little bitch in this house. Turns out there’s two,” Richie said, pretending to sound wounded even though his heart was turning to butter at the sight of their mirror image faces staring back at him with amusement. “I’m surrounded by tiny, sarcastic Kaspbrak gremlins.”

“Aw babe, we love you,” Eddie crooned, using his other hand to cup Richie’s cheek as he kissed him softly on the lips. “Don’t be bitter just because you got your ass handed to you by a twelve year old.”

“I guess this is my cue to hand you my controller and let _you_ try to hold your own against Evel KNoodle for a while,” said Richie as he placed the plastic steering wheel on Eddie’s lap and got up from his seat.

“And where are _you_ going?” inquired Eddie with a raising of his eyebrows. 

“I thought I’d go out onto the porch and catch up on my messages in the hammock until it’s time to start dinner,” Richie answered, pointedly looking between Eddie and Devon before meeting Eddie’s questioning gaze. “You know. Give you guys some bonding time.” 

Eddie’s eyes lit up in understanding and he smiled warmly, squeezing Richie’s hand gently before he took hold of the controller and settled back against the couch cushions. 

“Alright, Bunny, I call dibs on Toad,” he heard Eddie saying as he made his way out onto the porch and climbed into the cloth hammock that the owners of the beach house had installed sometime since their last vacation. It didn’t look very sturdy at first glance, but Richie had found it to be a surprisingly comfortable place to just lay down and think; something he’d been doing a lot of lately. He’d have to figure out a way to put one inside their apartment once they moved to New York. Maybe Devon would even like one for his new room. Not that the boy seemed particularly upset about the upcoming move, but Richie supposed every little bit would help to sweeten the deal. 

He settled in comfortably and opened his phone as the soothing sound of laughter and banter from his boys drifted out to him from the house’s open windows. He checked and replied to all of the emails he had let accumulate over the last week or so, most of which were from his management team informing him of the game plan for his Netflix special, and none of which contained anything he didn’t already know. To be honest, his heart wasn’t really in it. He _was_ sort of looking forward to properly performing again for the first time since he’d come out, even if it was still mostly going to be material that wasn’t his, but for the most part he was just dreading having to leave Eddie alone for over a week when he was getting more and more sick by the day. For all his positive and determined thinking, Richie wasn’t stupid enough to think that denying it every chance he got would make it any less true. He knew the reality of the situation all too well, deep down. 

But he’d promised Eddie he’d do the damn special, so do it he would. 

“Room for one more in there?” 

Richie shook himself out of his thoughts and looked up, smiling wide as Eddie looked down at him, a vision of gorgeous perfection complimented by the late afternoon sun. 

“Yeah, come on in, handsome,” he answered playfully, watching as Eddie carefully, and with a great deal of frustrated swearing, climbed into the hammock with him until they were finally facing each other with their legs tangled together in the middle. 

“Yeah, I don’t think this thing was made for two people,” Eddie muttered as he took a deep breath and held onto the sides of the cloth, as though that would do anything to steady them should the hammock suddenly decide to dislocate under their asses. “Two kids, maybe.”

“Come on, Spaghetti, it’s cozy,” Richie protested, resting one hand gently on the other man’s leg. “I was thinking of getting one for our new apartment when we move.”

“And put it where, exactly?”

“The bedroom, if we have enough room after installing the stripper pole and the sex swing,” replied Richie without missing a beat. He was rewarded with a light slap on the face from Eddie’s sock covered foot. “I appreciate that sentiment, Eds, but let’s save the kinky spanking stuff for later, hmm?”

“I will literally knock those glasses off your face with this foot,” muttered Eddie.

“Even kinkier.”

“You’re the worst, why do I love you again?”

“Because you’re super into big, dumb idiots?” Richie suggested helpfully. 

“Yeah, I thought that was it,” said Eddie with a grin as he lightly patted Richie on the cheek with his foot. “So,” he added, his face suddenly taking on a serious look as he cleared his throat and shifted in the hammock. “I got a phone call from that family lawyer this morning.”

“Yeah?” said Richie, perking up with interest. 

“He says that it should be a really easy process to terminate Myra’s parental rights, as long as you file for adoption,” Eddie continued in a quiet voice, looking just a little nervous as his eyes met Richie’s. “Since she hasn’t even tried to see him in years.”

“Great,” replied Richie, giving him a small, sincere smile even though what should have been happy news for them was tainted by the underlying reason for it. He knew that Eddie was preparing an updated will, of course, but he fucking hated being reminded of it. 

“I mean, we should… we should probably be married before you file the adoption papers, but…”

“Edward Kaspbrak, is that a proposal?” Richie asked, his heart skipping a beat at the prospect. It wasn’t the first time they’d discussed marriage over the years. Hell, even Devon was always asking him when he and Eddie were going to just have a wedding already, and one of his favorite things to call Richie sometimes just to fuck with him was Stepdad-In-Training. 

Eddie gave him a withering look. “Please. I may not be the most romantic person alive, but I think I can do a _little_ better than just casually asking while half my ass is hanging off a hammock.”

“I don’t know, this seems pretty romantic to me,” Richie quipped. 

“We’ll worry about a proposal later,” said Eddie, using his foot to pat him on the shoulder. “Right now I just…You’re… you’re still positive that you’ll adopt-“

“Eddie,” Richie interrupted him before he could go on. “We’ve discussed this. At length.”

“I know, I just want to make sure that when… that Myra can’t…”

“She won’t,” Richie assured him, swallowing down a lump that had begun forming in his throat. 

“Because all he knows is you, and you won’t let him forget me, and-“

“Look, Eds, wh- IF anything… h-happens to you, which it WON’T-“

“Richie.”

“In the worst case scenario,” Richie started again, “I’m going to take care of him. Alright? He’s already my kid, all we have to do is make it all legal.”

“I’m just saying, Rich, if there was ever a great time for you to break out that line about never breaking a promise, it would be right now.” The sight of Eddie’s bottom lip quivering nearly caused Richie to have a breakdown right there in the hammock, but he managed to collect himself enough to reach for the other man’s hand and gently caress it with his thumb. 

“Listen, Spaghetti. I know absolutely every little thing that there is to know about you, and my memory is very long. Alright? _Nobody_ is ever going to forget you as long as I’m around. You can count on that.”

Eddie’s face relaxed slightly, his dark eyes boring into Richie’s as though he were trying to reach directly into his soul. 

“I will.”

*

**September 2017**

Richie finished getting dressed in the dim light of dawn and gathered up a bunch of last minute things to toss into his carryon. His iPad. Some extra earbuds, because airplane earbuds were the fucking worst. Hand sanitizer, because airplanes were also disgusting and he knew Eddie would kill him if he didn’t use it. Gum. A bag of Haribo gummy bears, the sour kind, that had been a going away present from Devon the night before. A few tiny lunch-sized bags of Doritos. 

There. That was just about everything. 

He finished zipping up the duffel bag and turned back toward the bed, where Eddie was still peacefully sleeping, the early morning light peeking through the blinds illuminating his face just the right amount in the otherwise mostly dark bedroom. Richie smiled to himself as his mind filled with memories of the previous night, the first time they’d been intimate in a _very_ long time. They couldn’t do much, of course, and Richie had been a nervous wreck about doing anything at all, so afraid was he of accidentally hurting him, but they’d done what they could. It was far from being anything resembling the main event, so to speak, but the only thing that really mattered was how nice it felt to be so close to Eddie like that as though it were the very first time, to feel his skin and his breath and his fragile but valiant heartbeat as the world melted away and they melted together. 

That’s all that ever mattered, really. Just being together. 

_Fuck_ , he really didn’t want to leave. 

He quietly approached the bed, kneeling down and gingerly brushing his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “Eds,” he whispered softly into his ear, hating himself for disturbing the other man’s peaceful slumber, but knowing that he’d hate himself even more (not to mention how pissed Eddie would be) if he left without saying goodbye. 

“Eds,” he said again, and Eddie slowly opened his eyes and looked at him tiredly. 

“Morning,” Eddie murmured, giving him a sleepy smile that made Richie seriously consider canceling his plans right then and there. 

“I’m about to leave for the airport,” said Richie quietly as he continued to softly stroke the man’s hair. “I just wanted to let you know.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

“And call me the second your plane lands.”

“I _will_.”

“You have hand sanitizer in your bag, right?”

Richie snorted. “I’ve got it, babe.”

“You have to actually _use_ it, though.”

“Oh my god, Spaghetti, I will. I promise. I’ll use it on the plane and I’ll cover every surface of the rental car with it, if you want.”

“Ok,” said Eddie, leaning in to lightly press their lips together. 

“Now, _you_ promise _me_ that _you’ll_ be careful,” said Richie seriously once their lips had parted. “Don’t stress yourself out, call me, keep your hospital beeper charged up…”

“Richie,” said Eddie warningly, although he did give him a small smile.

“And if you need me at all, for absolutely anything, please call me. Because I will give no shits about leaving Netflix high and dry if I have to, alright?”

“Ok, you should go now,” said Eddie jokingly, giving him a gentle swat on the ass.

“I mean it!” Richie protested. “Actually, it’s not too late, I can just say fuck it and not go-“

“I will literally murder you,” Eddie interrupted him, bisecting the air with one hand to emphasize his point. “Get the fuck out of here and get on that flight so you can knock that audience dead, asshole. I’m begging you.”

“Ok, ok,” Richie muttered, leaning in for one more cheek kiss. “Promise me you’ll be here when I get back?”

“ _Right_ here? Naked in bed?” Eddie teased. “I think we can arrange that, yeah.”

“You know what I mean,” Richie said soberly, brushing a hand up against Eddie’s cheek. “Promise me you’ll _be_ here.”

Eddie looked at him carefully, his eyes hooded as he placed one hand on either side of Richie’s face and pulled him in for one last, passionate kiss. 

“I promise. Now, go show the world what Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier is made of, ok?”

*

**Devon**

**Today** 2:25 PM

Dad’s beeper went off at the store, there’s a heart for him. Uncle Bill took us to the hospital, we’re in the waiting room now 

**Devon**

**Today** 2:27 PM

Dad‘s phone is dead, call my phone

**Devon**

**Today** 2:29 PM

RICHIE CALL ME OMFG

**Devon**

**Today** 2:31 PM

CAAALLL MEEEEE


	13. Wind Beneath My Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a sex scene, reader discretion advised u___u Don’t say you weren’t warned ^_^

Richie burst through the elevator doors leading out onto the third floor of the transplant center and practically sprinted down the hallway, turning quite a few heads in the process. Maybe people were staring at him because they recognized him, or maybe they were just fascinated by the wide-eyed, extremely disheveled man with wild hair and crooked glasses running inside a hospital. Maybe it was both. He really didn’t give a fuck. He followed signs until he reached the brightly lit waiting area that was cleaner and much more inviting than the ones in emergency departments he had, unfortunately, gotten used to occupying over the last couple of years. A flatscreen television mounted on a plastic stand blared an episode of  _ Jeopardy _ to an audience that consisted of a middle-aged couple, a younger looking woman, and most importantly, Bill, whose face brightened as soon as he caught sight of Richie. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed quietly as Richie made his way over to him. “Devon’s in the bathroom, he’s going to be so happy to see you. Poor kid’s been a complete nervous wreck all day.”

“How’s Eddie?” asked Richie, flopping tiredly down into the chair next to him. 

“They came out awhile ago to tell us that they were just closing him back up,” Bill assured him. “He’s doing fine. They should be coming back out soon.”

“God, I can’t fucking believe the  _ one time _ that I’m away from home…” Richie murmured, the anxiety he’d been feeling all day gradually dissolving into something more resembling overwhelming guilt. “I left him. I can’t believe I fucking  _ left him _ . What if he didn’t make it and we never got the chance to-“

“Dad!” Devon’s happy cry cut Richie’s self-pitying diatribe short as he came back into the waiting room and launched himself at him with a hug that Richie hadn’t even realized he  _ really _ needed until that moment. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“I’m here now,” said Richie softly as he hugged his son and kissed the top of his head. “I’m not going  _ anywhere _ .” He meant it. He didn’t care if his manager and Netflix’s CEO himself walked in and threatened to string him up by the balls, there was no way in hell he was leaving that hospital until he could take Eddie out with him. 

“They said Dad was doing great,” Devon told him proudly as he plopped himself on the seat beside Richie. 

“He better be,” replied Richie, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on the television screen in order to calm himself down. “He’s literally not allowed to be doing less than great.”

“He’s fine, Richie,” Bill assured him with a friendly pat on the knee. “I’ve known Eddie since we were in diapers, and he is as stubborn as a mule. He’s not going anywhere any time soon, trust me.”

“Oh yeah, that’s my Eds,” said Richie, a fond smile spreading over his face as Bill’s words comforted him. “I just won’t feel better until I know for sure that the transplant is finished and he’s ok and recovering on a shit ton of painkillers.”

As if summoned by his words, a doctor suddenly appeared in the waiting room and walked over to them, the calm, unbothered look on the man’s face already telling Richie that the news was good even before he opened his mouth. 

“So, we’ve completed the procedure,” the doctor informed them. “It went beautifully.”

“So he’s ok?” Richie asked anxiously. A stupid question, probably, but he’d spent so much time in the car agonizing over every possible worst case scenario that he needed all the affirmation he could possibly get. 

The doctor smiled at him. “He was the ideal patient. We couldn’t have asked for a smoother surgery. Are you Richie?”

Richie nodded as relief washed over him. “Yes.”

“I thought so. Eddie told us a lot about you while we were prepping him for surgery. It’s an honor to meet the man who hung the moon,” the doctor said, offering him a handshake. 

The guilt came back to briefly replace the relief, but Richie did his best to squash it down as he shook the man’s hand. “Eds brags too much. I’m not that special,” he protested, even as he felt his cheeks begin to flush.

The doctor let out an amused chuckle. “We’re wheeling him into a recovery room right now. He’s comfortable and he’ll stay asleep until the anesthesia wears off, but after that you’re free to see him-“

“Oh… oh please, I have to see him sooner than that,” Richie begged, the very idea of having to wait much longer causing him to feel nauseous. “I know he’s not awake but I… I  _ need _ to just… just see him…”

“I want to see my dad,” Devon piped up in a small voice, fixing the doctor with a pair of Eddie-esque puppy eyes that gave Richie a surge of parental pride. 

The doctor tilted his head to the side, his eyes slightly squinted as he considered their request. “Well… I suppose that would be ok, since you’re immediate family. We can’t allow more than two visitors at a time, though.”

“You know what, don’t even worry about me,” Bill spoke up, rising from his seat. “Stan had to work late and he’ll be getting home soon, so I should probably head back, but call us when he’s awake. Ok?”

“I will,” Richie promised, relief rushing through his body as he gave Bill a quick hug. “Thank you. For being there for them.”

“Any time, dude,” Bill assured him with a pat on the back. He hugged Devon and left, leaving father and son to face the doctor, who began leading them out of the waiting room and through a maze of hallways, with a quick stop along the way at a hand washing and sanitizing station. 

“Now, I don’t want you guys to be alarmed when you see him,” the man was saying as he continued to show them the way. “He’s connected to a lot of tubes and machines, but he’ll only need most of them for a couple of days at the most.” He stopped outside of the door to room 318 and gave them an encouraging smile. “This is it. A nurse will probably be in shortly to check on him.”

“Thank you,” said Richie sincerely. He felt Devon’s hand slip into his as they watched the doctor walk away and then turned to face the partially closed door. 

“Are you scared?” Devon asked. 

“No,” replied Richie, even though he kind of was. At the very least, he may not have necessarily been scared anymore, but he  _ was _ nervous, which was just as bad. “Are you?”

“No,” said Devon, his tone of voice betraying the fact that he was probably just as nervous as Richie. 

“Ok, then. Let’s do this,” said Richie, steeling himself and pushing the door open with his elbow before he could let himself think about it much longer. He and Devon cautiously entered the small room, which was filled with the sounds of various beeps and other noises coming from the plethora of machines inside. Richie swallowed thickly as his eyes finally landed on Eddie laying in the bed in the middle of the room, plastic tubing emerging from what looked like every part of his body, including his mouth. He looked so tiny compared to the massive machinery keeping him going, and the very sight made Richie want to cry. 

He didn’t, though. Strangely. Every fiber of his being wanted to let loose with a waterfall of tears, but they didn’t come. He supposed, on some level, that this was his subconscious way of telling himself that keeping the room full of positive vibes for Eddie’s sake was more important than falling apart at the difficulty of seeing him like that. He looked on as Devon became the first of the two of them to gather his courage and carefully approach the bed.

“Hi, Dad,” he said quietly, ghosting his hand over Eddie’s without actually touching it. “I, um… I don’t know if you can hear me or anything ‘cause you’re sleeping, but me and Richie are here.”

Richie took a breath and walked over to join him, doing his best to remain calm even as he finally got a good look at what Eddie’s torso looked like.  _ He’s ok. It looks horrible but he’s really ok; the doctor said so. Ideal patient. Smooth surgery. Everything is just fine.  _

“Oh, Eddie Spaghetti,” he said softly, gingerly reaching a hand over and brushing his fingers through Eddie’s hair, the only part of his body he felt comfortable touching at the moment. “I should have known you’d wait until I was out of town to go have major surgery. Dick.” He could almost imagine that he saw a smile playing on Eddie’s lips. He knew that was impossible, of course, but that was ok. He also knew that it wouldn’t be long until the other man was awake and could glare at him as he delivered a biting retort, probably something involving the word ‘asshole.’ With love, obviously. 

He couldn’t fucking  _ wait _ . 

“We’re here, Eds. We’ll be right here when you wake up, alright? I don’t want you to worry about a thing, because you’re going to be just fine from now on, you hear me? That’s not me being sentimental, that’s a direct order, you little turd.” He briefly debated leaning down to kiss the top of his head, but settled for lightly stroking it instead in the interest of minimizing germs. 

“Sleep, Eds. Just sleep now, ‘cause you’ve fuckin  _ earned  _ it. I love you.”

*

_ “Ugh, finally got him to sleep. I love my son, but if I had known that the Terrible Twos were going to extend into the Terrifying Threes, I would have just sent him down the river in a basket at birth, Moses style.” _

_ “Aw, Eds. You would not.” _

_ “You’re right. But goddamn, how many times in a row can a man read Goldilocks and the Three Fuckin Bears under threat of a nuclear toddler meltdown and still maintain his sanity? Cause I think I’m at that limit.” _

_ “You wanna talk about it?” _

_ “No, but I do want to cuddle and watch TV about it. Move over.” _

_ “At your service, Spaghetti. That better?” _

_ “Much.” _

_ “Hey… Eds?” _

_ “Hmm?” _

_ “Can I ask you a question?” _

_ “As long as it doesn’t involve the logistics of how three bowls of porridge are all different temperatures if they were all from the same pot, you can ask me literally anything.” _

_ “....... How ARE three bowls of porridge all different temperatures if they-“ _

_ “RICHARD.” _

_ “Ok, ok. I’m sorry.” _

_ “So what was your actual question?” _

_ “Oh, uh… I just… I was just wondering… it’s probably a stupid question, forget it.” _

_ “No, what is it?” _

_ “It’s dumb.” _

_ “Richie, come oooon.” _

_ “....... Why do you love me?” _

_ “Excuse me?” _

_ “I mean… look at you. Out of literally all the men on earth you could have…. why me?” _

_ “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” _

_ “I’m just curious. I told you it was stupid.” _

_ “It’s not stupid, Rich…. I just don’t understand how you can’t see all the things about yourself that make me love you.” _

_ “Like?” _

_ “Where do I start, asshole? You’re kind, you’re funny as hell, you’re generous and warm and so smart. You’re so soft with Devon. You’re fucking HOT, especially when you do that little nose crinkle thing when you laugh. And like, have you SEEN your shoulders? Come on, now. And you know what I love the most about you?” _

_ “There’s more?” _

_ “Bitch, I could go on all night. I’m just giving you the highlights.” _

_ “Ok, ok. What was that last reason?” _

_ “I love you because you’ve always loved me for ME, for who I am, not for who you wished I was. I’ve had so little of that in my life. And I love you for who YOU are. That’s how I know we’re gonna make it. Our love doesn’t come with false expectations or strings.” _

_ “That…. that’s the sappiest fucking thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth, Eds. I’m touched.” _

_ “Shut uuuup.” _

_ “No, really, I’m gonna cry.” _

_ “Stop.” _

_ “Eddie and Richie sitting in a treeeee…” _

_ “You’re a shithead.” _

_ “I love you.” _

_ “I love you too. Now shut the fuck up and kiss me.” _

“Eddie?”

The distant, female voice cut through the foggy memory playing through Eddie’s brain like an old home movie. He opened his eyes, blinking back the sting of the harsh, fluorescent light that suddenly overwhelmed him as he struggled to take in his surroundings. 

“Eddie, can you hear me?”

“Mmmph,” Eddie replied groggily, wincing at the sudden pain in his throat when he tried to make a sound. 

“You can just nod,” the woman’s voice continued. “We just took your breathing tube out, so your throat is gonna hurt a little if you talk, ok?”

Eddie nodded and turned his head to the best of his ability as memories of the last day or so overtook him. The beeper going off. The drive to the transplant center. The nervous dread in his stomach, and the absolute despair when they couldn’t get ahold of Richie in time before the hospital staff spirited him away for prep work. Hugging a sobbing Devon goodbye and telling him he’d always love him, just in case. Being wheeled into surgery and slowly falling unconscious as the vision of Richie’s face appeared behind his closed eyelids, his only comfort as he wondered whether he would come out of this alive. His last thought being that he would never get to say goodbye.

Considering all of this, the sheer joy he felt through his disorientation when his eyes finally landed on Richie himself was indescribable. 

“Fuck yeah, there he is! Eds!” Richie exclaimed happily in a soft voice as the nurse continued to work on him. The other man leaned down and grasped his hand as though his life depended on it. 

“Richie,” Eddie murmured through the pain in his throat, the word turning into a dry cough that felt like a thousand knives. 

“Shhh, don’t talk,” Richie said soothingly, reaching up to stroke his hair. “You don’t have to talk. You made it, man. You fuckin made it! I knew you would, you’re a goddamn badass.”

Eddie managed to give him a smile as his eyes wandered down to his own chest, which looked as swollen as it felt and was covered in tubes and bandages, the sight of which immediately began to freak him out. He felt his breathing begin to quicken and a few tears begin to spring forth from his eyes, but the sensation of Richie gently stroking his hand mercifully distracted him just enough so that he couldn’t fully concentrate on his anxiety. 

“Hey… hey, Eds, don’t look at that, ok? Just… don’t look at that, look at me. Alright? Look at me, focus on me.” Eddie did so, focusing on the familiar face of home that he loved so much. He felt himself begin to relax, his body filling with a sense of calm as the feeling of Richie’s skin against his drove home the fact that he was ok, he was  _ alive _ , he’d actually survived that fucking surgery, and if he could do that, he could do anything. 

He suddenly thought of Devon, remembering the crushed look on his son’s face the last time he saw him, and gently shook his hand free from Richie’s in order to make a pair of bunny ears with his fingers. Richie immediately understood and nodded with an amused laugh, gesturing toward Eddie’s other side.

“He’s right here, Eds,” Richie said, and Devon suddenly appeared beside him, looking cautious but hopeful as he stared down at him. 

“Hi, Dad,” he said with a small smile. Eddie longed to hug him, but he settled for grabbing one of his hands and giving it a squeeze before he reached up to lightly boop the boy on the nose, hoping that got the message across. 

“I love you too,” said Devon, his smile turning into a happy grin. He held onto Eddie’s hand as Richie clapped his own hand on top of theirs. It was the closest thing to a family hug they could get to until all of the tubes were gone, but Eddie didn’t even mind. Despite the pain he was in, despite all of the fear he harbored for the journey he was still about to endure in the name of recovery, and despite how long and arduous he knew that journey was going to be, he knew… he absolutely  _ knew _ , 100% for certain, that everything was going to be ok. Because he would never have to go through any of it alone, even for a moment. 

_ You know what? I’ve made it this far. So… Bring. It. The. Fuck. On. _

*

_ September 12, 2017 _

_ Today they moved me out of the ICU and into a regular hospital room, for which you have NO idea how grateful I am. For one thing, that means they think I’m healthy enough for that. I mean, sure, it still hurts like a bitch in my chest if I have to cough or sneeze. But, so far I’m healing up nicely, and there’s absolutely no signs of possible rejection. Yet. And for another thing, the entire intensive care floor smells like the laundry room in the basement of the first apartment building Richie and I lived in. This floor doesn’t smell THAT much better, but at least the room also has a television. Anyway, while I still feel sort of guilty about Richie missing the filming of his special, I’m so relieved that he’s here with me. I honestly thought, when I was being wheeled into the OR, that I might never see him again, and if my heart wasn’t already literally broken at the time, it might have figuratively broken right then. So now, I’m taking no moment for granted. I even watched him sleep upright in his chair last night for like two hours, while his glasses slowly slid down his face. It was fucking cute. I got a few photos and Richie was less than amused, so of course I can’t wait for Bill to pick Devon up from school and bring him over so I can show them. Insert devil emoji here.  _

_ God, you have no idea how full of life I feel right now. I haven’t felt this way in forever.  _

_ * _

_ September 18, 2017 _

_ I’m hooooome! Daily update is that all my pre-discharge testing looked great, no rejection signs, and in about a week I can start slowly introducing an exercise routine to strengthen myself back up. But for now, it’s the downstairs sofa, the TV, a shit ton of blankets and pillows, and my boys practically falling all over themselves to wait on me, which is so sweet. Richie is being the best of sports by spending a lot of time serving as my biggest and favorite pillow, and Devon sat right next to me when he got home this afternoon and proudly showed me a folder in his phone full of heart healthy recipes he wants to try to make for me based on the diet restrictions they gave me in the hospital. I almost started crying. I know that lately I’ve probably been sounding more and more like a bad Lifetime movie in this journal, but I just… I love them so fucking much, man. How the fuck could I ever have left them? How?  _

_ Also, note to self: I’ve been wearing Richie’s T-shirts instead of my own while I hang around the house and he apparently finds this extremely sexy. File that away, Eds, use it to your advantage.  _

_ * _

_ October 2, 2017 _

_ It finally wasn’t fucking raining today, so Richie and I went for a little walk around the neighborhood in the morning. The doctor says twenty minutes of light exercise three times a week for right now, so I’m doing my best. I’m still a liiiiiiiittle bit sore from where the incision hasn’t fully healed when I move too much, but other than that, I’m so grateful to actually be able to take walks again without running out of breath every five seconds. Anyway, my follow-up appointment went great. They say I’m recovering beautifully and I can go back to work soon if I want, as long as I take it easy. Honestly, I think I may just continue to work from home for the time being, since we plan to move to New York at the beginning of the year anyway.  _

_ * _

_ October 31, 2017 _

_ Happy Halloween! Devon went out trick or treating with some of his friends, which is the first time he’s ever gone without one or both of us. He says this is probably the last year he’ll want to go at all. I gotta admit, I felt a little sad watching him leave the house in his little scary clown costume. No one prepares you for what it feels like to watch your baby grow up into an almost-teenager, you know? _

_ Anyway, Richie and I had a perfectly fun Halloween evening on our own, watching horror movies and painting faces on tiny mini pumpkins. I painted mine to look like Darth Vader, meanwhile my human facepalm of a life partner gave his pumpkin pigtails and freckles and named it Pumpky Brewster. God, I love him. The evening was rounded out by Devon coming back home and sharing his candy with us while we all settled in to watch Hocus Pocus. I’m not technically supposed to be eating a lot of sweets, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to deny myself a Three Musketeers or two every now and then. _

_ New countdown: only two and a half more weeks until the doctors say sexual activity can safely resume. INSERT. DEVIL. EMOJI.  _

_ * _

_ November 8, 2017 _

_ Had another follow-up today. Everything is still looking excellent, so nothing new to report there. More importantly, we finally signed the papers for our new apartment, which we can move into as of January 1. We’ve decided not to sell this house, since we can rent it out instead and hold onto it just in case we ever want or need to come back to it. So it won’t be quite as sad when we move out, I suppose.  _

_ Countdown until sexual activity can resume: A little over a week, thank you lord.  _

_ * _

Richie bit his lip and frowned at the computer screen in front of him, reading back what he’d just written and sighing as he decided he hated it. He didn’t know what the fuck had possessed him to think, once the dust had settled from his first failed Netflix attempt and he’d been offered one more chance, that he had any business trying to write his own material. Every joke was hilarious in his own head, but once he actually got it out onto the screen, it suddenly became decidedly less so. 

“Uuuungh,” he groaned as he practically assaulted the backspace key and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. At least the show wasn’t until March. That was plenty of time to shit out something people might actually laugh at, right?

He took a deep breath and put his glasses back on as he glared at the screen, determined to write at least one more joke before the day was out. It was only noon, he could manage that for sure. He stared off into space and lost himself in his own thoughts, so much so that he didn’t realize Eddie had quietly entered his office until he felt familiar arms wrapping around him from behind. 

“How’s the work coming?” Eddie said softly into his ear as he placed a warm kiss to the side of his head and rested his chin on Richie’s shoulder. 

“Not well, Spaghetti,” Richie sighed. “I’m beginning to think I’m not as funny as I thought I was.”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’re hilarious,” Eddie assured him, squeezing him and kissing him again, behind his ear this time. 

“You think?”

“I know,” said Eddie, moving his lips down to the spot just below his ear that never failed to make Richie shiver delightedly. He kept at it, his lips traveling halfway down Richie’s neck and back up again until Richie finally gave up even trying to concentrate on his writing. 

“I’m starting to think that you didn’t actually come in here to check on my progress,” he quipped as he saved what little work he’d gotten done and closed the document. Not that he minded, of course. Lately he was just so grateful to have Eddie around and getting healthier with every passing day that he was more than happy to indulge him in any way he could. If Eddie clearly wanted his undivided attention, well… he was going to get Richie’s undivided attention. 

“How’d you fuckin guess?”

“Shot in the dark.”

“Yeah, you caught me,” Eddie admitted, coming around to the other side of the chair and carefully straddling him, both arms wrapped around his neck. “I actually came in here to give you some good news.”

“Oh?” said Richie, his interest piqued as he kissed him briefly on the lips and placed his hands firmly around his waist. 

“Do you know what today is?”

Richie paused, trying to think if there was some important anniversary he’d forgotten. “Well… uh… I mean, your birthday was last week, so…it’s…Monday?”

Eddie smiled and rolled his eyes. “Today is ten weeks and three days since my surgery.”

“Oh,” said Richie. “So it is?” He actually couldn’t believe it had only been ten weeks. Eddie had made such leaps and bounds in his progress that it felt more like six months had passed. “Happy surgiversary?”

Eddie laughed, a sound that had always filled Richie with joy, of course, but did so even more now that it was once again clear as a bell and unhindered by terrible bouts of gasping. “Yeah, so anyway, if memory serves me,” he said, leaning back down for another kiss that he slowly spread from Richie’s mouth back to his neck in between words, “I believe that all my doctors told us ten weeks was the magic number.”

Richie suddenly knew exactly what he was getting at, but he pretended he didn’t, just for his own amusement. “Magic number for what, Eds?” he teased him, running his hands slowly up Eddie’s body and back down to his waist. 

“Don’t you fuckin play dumb,” Eddie replied, grinding his hips down onto him and smiling with satisfaction when it elicited an involuntary moan from Richie. 

“Spaghetti, I’m  _ scandalized _ !” Richie gasped dramatically as he pulled him closer and teased his fingers beneath the hem of Eddie’s T-shirt, which was technically one of Richie’s shirts that the other man had taken to wearing during his recovery due to the fact that they were so much bigger on him and thus, more comfortable. With the added benefit of making him look inexplicably sexier than ever. 

“So I thought, it’s Monday, Devon’s in school for another three hours, we’ve got plenty of time for a little… celebration?” Eddie said suggestively.

“Oh, you mean like, with cake and stuff?” Richie egged him on, his hands fully under the shirt now as Eddie’s hand rested on the front of Richie’s jeans, applying pressure but agonizingly not otherwise moving. 

“No, I mean by you dragging me into the bedroom, throwing me on the bed, and ravishing me,” Eddie replied bluntly, raising his eyebrows at him. 

“Mmm, how about if I respectfully carry you into the bedroom, gently place you on the bed, and make sweet love to you?” Richie countered.

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “Fine, as long as you promise to never use the phrase ‘make sweet love’ ever again.”

“Deal!” Richie grinned and adjusted his grip on Eddie so that he could stand up and carry him out of the room, the other man’s legs wrapped around his waist as he continued sucking marks into Richie’s neck the entire way into the bedroom. They tumbled together onto the bed, giggling like teenagers, and simply stayed that way for a bit, enjoying the closeness as they shared electrically charged kisses and teasing touches that were enough to set Richie’s nerves on fire all on their own. He honestly could have been happy with just those and nothing else forever, as long as he was with Eddie, but the promise in the air of more was making him positively drunk with desire. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked Eddie softly, breaking from a kiss to look down at him questioningly. Large brown eyes stared back at him, sparkling with love and trust as Eddie reached up to brush a lock of hair out of Richie’s face. 

“I’ve  _ been _ ready,” he replied. “Are… are you?”

“What?” asked Richie, slightly taken aback by the question.

“Are  _ you _ ready?” Eddie repeated, biting his lip nervously. “I just mean… I absolutely feel up to this, but I know this whole situation makes you anxious and you’re scared of hurting me, so if-“

“Eds,” Richie interrupted him with a soft kiss. “I’ll be honest, I think I’m always going to be a little nervous at the idea of sex from now on, considering what we’ve been through. That does  _ not _ mean I don’t want to do it,” he added with a reassuring smile.

“Really?”

“Really. Let’s take it slow, though. At least this time. Alright?”

“Ugh, I love you so much,” Eddie groaned, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him in for a heated kiss that made all of Richie’s blood start traveling downwards as they frantically made quick work of removing their clothing. He saw Eddie’s face fall for a second when the man glanced down at his surgery scar, which was still very much prominent and would be for the foreseeable future. 

“Nope,” Richie said to him gently as he fumbled in the drawer of his nightstand for their supplies. “None of that, Spaghetti. In this house we love and appreciate our battle scars.”

“It’s just so fucking huge and ugly,” Eddie whined.

“Well, it  _ is _ huge,” agreed Richie, leaning down to place a series of tender kisses down the length of Eddie’s chest. “But ugly? No. It’s part of you, so it could never be ugly.”

“You’re such a cheesy fucker,” said Eddie with a smile. 

“What can I say? Love does shit like that to a person,” replied Richie with a shrug. “Now, get comfy.” He set to work preparing him, taking his time and going as slowly as possible. There had been times during the last couple of years in which he’d sincerely thought he’d never get to touch Eddie like that again, so he was determined to savor every last moment. He continued even as they finally joined together, moving within him at an unhurried pace and covering his neck with hungry yet gentle kisses. Eddie’s soft moans were music to his ears as they rocked together in harmony, and Richie felt self-control start to leave him little by little with every dig of Eddie’s nails into the skin of his back. He increased his pace as much as he dared to, not wanting to even accidentally make it too much for Eddie.

“Don’t.. don’t hold back,” Eddie whispered breathlessly as he met Richie’s rhythm and gripped tightly at his arms. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Richie murmured.

“You won’t, I promise,” Eddie assured him, punctuating his words with a messy kiss. “Let go for me.”

Despite his misgivings, that was all the permission Richie needed to do exactly that. He pulled the both of them into a sitting position and held Eddie as close to him as he possibly could, letting all of his inhibitions go at once. Every worry he’d suffered through during Eddie’s illness, every tear he’d shed at the idea of losing him, of never being able to be as intimate with him again as he was right now, all of that flowed straight through and out of his body as he rocked up into him with abandon, both of them moaning loudly and incoherently in each other’s ears. It wasn’t long before they were each screaming their long overdue releases and collapsing back onto the bed, breathing heavily as they still held onto one another for dear life for several long moments before doing the bare minimum of cleaning up. 

“Are you alright?” Richie asked him worriedly as he settled his head down onto Eddie’s chest, the beating of his new heart thumping in his ear like a drum. “That wasn’t too much, was it?”

“I’m wonderful,” Eddie replied, a tear running down his cheek as he wrapped his arms around him. “This is exactly what I’ve been craving for years.”

“Hey, now,  _ I’m  _ usually the one who cries after sex,” Richie admonished him teasingly. 

“Excuse me, but up until recently I thought I was going to die before I ever got the chance to do this again,” Eddie retorted with a sniff. “I think I’ve earned a few tears.”

“That’s fair,” Richie agreed, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s collarbone and sighing happily, his entire body bursting with the sheer amount of love he felt for the man right then. “Hey, Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“We’ll never be without each other, will we?”

“Never.”

“Promise?”

“Cross this brand new heart and hope to-“

“Do  _ not _ finish that sentence!” Richie warned him. 

Eddie laughed. “We’re a long haul couple, Rich. One day we’ll both be 95 years old in matching rocking chairs while you wear an ugly Hawaiian shirt, possibly telling our great grandchildren all about our epic love story. Or just watching reruns of  _ Cheers _ . Either way, we’ll be doing it together.”

“Just checking,” said Richie with a grin as he made himself comfortable against him and closed his eyes, soaking in every single second of their time together. For all the bullshit they’d been through, at the moment, life actually seemed to be on their side for once. The future was bright and they had endless possibilities in front of them. 

_ You know what? I hope Mac doesn’t have any plans for after school, cause I’m gonna need a brainstorming partner if I’m gonna plan the perfect proposal.  _

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ Day 1 in new apartment with better half and kid. Already on argument 35 about right way to arrange dishes in cabinets. Highly recommend domestic life.  _

01/01/18

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ Also, pleased to announce my Netflix special will be filming in March, and YOU can attend! Details on my website.  _

01/01/18

*

_ January 8, 2018 _

_ Today we officially began the process of Richie legally adopting Devon. Hopefully it will be a relatively smooth one. It should be, since he’s had no contact with Myra in over ten years and that technically constitutes child abandonment. Once her parental rights are terminated, Richie can file the papers and it should be really quick from there.  _

_ I really feel like our lives are finally clicking into a really great place. I’m relatively healthy again, we’re in our new apartment, Devon seems to like his new school so far, Richie’s career is getting back on track with his special and the movie he’s signed on for that starts shooting this summer… I think we’re some of the luckiest bastards in the world right now. How did THAT happen? _

_ * _

_ February 14, 2018 _

_ For the first time in years, Richie and I got to actually celebrate Valentine's Day. Quickly, in the middle of the day, in our bedroom, before I had to rush off to see a client, but nevertheless, it was legit Valentine’s sex and for that I’m grateful. This weekend we’ll celebrate a little more. And longer. ;) _

_ I wish he could go up to Derry with Devon and I in a couple of weeks for Georgie’s wedding, but that’s the same weekend he has his first rehearsal for Netflix. I absolutely HATE going back there, I always feel like the ghost of my mother is watching me and waiting to yell at me for every little thing I’ve ever done that would have been considered against her wishes. It would have been nice to have Richie by my side, but at least Devon will be with me. And Bill and Stan will be around, obviously.  _

_ * _

_ March 3, 2018 _

_ Well, another wedding over and done with. It was a lovely ceremony, Georgie and his bride are an adorable couple, and it was really good to see Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough again after so many years and get to hang out with Bill and Stan, but I’m ready to goooo. God, Derry is such a shithole full of traumatic memories, and once you’ve left it and come back it’s even more obvious. Devon and I are staying the night at the Denbrough’s house and then we’re heading out first thing in the morning. He asked me how far away Turquoise Bank is from here, and when I told him it was about an hour away he practically begged me to take him to see it before we go home. I tried to tell him it’s a dying town with nothing in it, but he REALLY seems to want to go, so I gave in and we’re going to go check it out tomorrow. Truthfully, I think it will be really nice to see it again after so long. It IS the place where Richie and I began, after all, and I think it’s really cute that Devon is so interested in it.  _

_ But after that? Hooooooome.  _

_ * _

**Devon**

**Today** 9:15 PM

You remembered the ring, right?

**Today** 9:16 PM

No, I literally left the one important object for this entire mission at home. YES, I have the ring. 

**Devon**

**Today** 9:17 PM

Calm down, Dad, I’m just checking. 

**Devon**

**Today** 9:18 PM

Dad’s asleep now. We’ll be leaving here early tomorrow because he’s itching to leave Derry, so by my calculations we should be arriving in Turquoise Bank by like 10am at the latest. So you gotta be there before then and make sure the door is unlocked. 

**Today** 9:21 PM

I got the key from the building owner yesterday. Don’t let me forget to return it before we leave out of there tomorrow. 

**Devon**

**Today** 9:23 PM

Great. Go to sleep so you don’t get those dark bags under your eyes, unless you want them in the photos 

**Today** 9:26 PM

You know, it’s starting to make sense why so many animals eat their young 

**Devon**

**Today** 9:27 PM

Goodnight Daaaaad I love you you’re my favorite parent see you in the morning ^__^

**Today** 9:28 PM

Yeah, yeah. Night, Mac. Love you. 

*

“So,” said Eddie as he pulled the car off the highway and onto the exit which would lead them to Turqouise Bank. “I Googled this place over breakfast this morning, and hardly any of the old businesses are open anymore. And the ones that  _ are _ still open might not be yet, since tourist season doesn’t start until next month. So try not to be too disappointed when it looks lame, ok?”

“That’s ok,” Devon replied, looking up from his phone, which he’d been texting on consistently ever since they’d left the Denbrough’s house that morning. “I don’t care if anything is open, I just want to see it.”

“It’s really not that exciting, Bunny. Honestly, it was lame thirty years ago and I’m guessing it’s even worse now.”

“But it’s family history!” Devon protested dramatically, emphasizing his point by chopping the air with one hand. “Wouldn’t you have been curious to see where  _ your _ parents first met?”

Eddie frowned as he seriously considered his son’s question. He didn’t think he even knew where his parents met. He’d certainly never asked his mother, and she had rarely, if ever, talked with him about his father, so it wasn’t like it would have ever come up in casual conversation. There was so much of his parents’ history that he didn’t know, so much he would  _ never _ know, but, considering what he did know firsthand about his mother, he supposed that he was probably better off that way. 

“I guess I might have been curious if I had the kind of relationship with my parents that you have with us,” he answered as the car entered the Turquoise Bank town limits. 

“Oh my god, we’re here!” squealed Devon excitedly, looking eagerly out the window as they drove down a stretch of road lined by miles of beach, which was practically empty except for a few people out walking their dogs. Eddie caught a glimpse of the old wooden talent show stage out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself at the memory. 

“We’re here, alright,” Eddie agreed, making a right turn onto the town’s main drag and being immediately hit with a strong wave of nostalgia. Even though he’d barely spent any time there, everything still matched the images seared forever into his memory, as though time in Turquoise Bank had stood still for the sole purpose of waiting for him to come back. God, he wished Richie was there with them. He’d have to call him later and tell him all about it. 

“This is pretty much the entire town,” he explained as they slowly drove along, taking in the sights of all the businesses, some of which were closed for the season and some which were closed forever, but all of them looking more or less unchanged from thirty years prior. “Richie and I got ice cream over there,” he added, pointing out the location as he felt a grin spread over his face. “He never liked sprinkles, that fuckin weirdo…”

“Where’s the arcade?” Devon asked, his eyes darting around in search of the one building in particular that clearly had his interest piqued the most. 

“It’s up here a little, I think,” said Eddie, driving a bit further until the arcade in question finally came into view. “There it is. Oh, wow, I don’t think they’ve changed it whatsoever in all this time… is it even open?” He squinted at it, trying to figure out if it was one of the unfortunate businesses that had succumbed to the town’s dying economy. 

“Ohhhh, can we go in?” asked Devon, turning to look pleadingly at Eddie with wide, puppy-like eyes. “Please?”

“I.. I don’t know if it’s open, Dev,” replied Eddie, even as he found himself parking the car in front of the building anyway. “It looks pretty dead.”

“Can we just go look?” Devon pressed, undoing his seatbelt and bolting out of the car before Eddie could say anything else. He stopped the engine, unbuckled his own belt, and followed his son out of the car, trying to peek into the windows as they walked up to the door. He thought he saw some movement inside, but the windows were so dark that it was impossible to be sure. 

“They’re open!” Devon exclaimed in an unnecessarily loud tone right before he grabbed the door handle and let himself inside, Eddie following close behind. The inside of the arcade was like walking into a time machine. Literally everything looked and felt exactly as he remembered it, right down to the questionably clean game machines and the smell of stale popcorn still hanging in the air. Some of the games had clearly been out of commission for years, but there they still stood, giant, electronic monuments commemorating a bygone era that only those who had experienced it could ever  _ fully  _ appreciate. The only thing different was the lack of people; the arcade he remembered had been full of kids, while its present day self was completely empty except for the two of them. 

_ Wait, I know I saw some kind of movement in here before we came in…  _

He swallowed and tried not to think about creepy ghost stories as his and Devon’s eyes both landed on the  _ Street Fighter _ machine at the same time. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie breathed, walking up to it reverently as a worshiper might have approached a religious idol. Memories of that day played through his mind as clear as crystal, every single moment as familiar and comforting as a scene from a favorite old film. He ghosted his hand over the buttons, unwilling to actually touch them now that there was probably an additional three decades worth of bacteria accumulated on them, and let out a happy sigh. 

“This was  _ the _ game, right?” Devon asked, sidling up beside him to look at what had him so entranced. 

“Yep,” said Eddie with a fond smile. “God, I remember it all like it was yesterday. This was the only game with no one standing at it, so I put my coins in, but I had absolutely zero idea what I was doing. I started losing so badly, and then I hear this sudden voice from behind me saying ‘Don’t-“

“Don’t tell me, you’re new at this, huh?”

Eddie froze, his new heart skipping several beats and adrenaline coursing through his veins as he fought the urge to scream. He turned around, letting out a loud gasp as he suddenly found himself face to face with Richie, who was standing there looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“You scared the fuck out of me, asshole!” Eddie exclaimed, rushing to hug him tight even as he admonished him. He wouldn’t lie, he was ecstatic that Richie was there to experience their shared nostalgia with him, but he was also full of questions. “What are you doing here?” he asked him as he locked their lips together in a brief but passionate kiss. “I thought you were doing the first rehearsal today.”

“I lied,” replied Richie with a shrug. “First rehearsal is actually on Wednesday.”

“Ok, but… but… how did you even know we were here… and why didn’t you tell me you were.. I don’t…”

Richie laughed. “You’re real cute when you’re flustered, Spaghetti. Anyway it’s not a coincidence that we all just happen to be here today. I had an assistant whose job it was to make sure  _ you _ got here,” he added, smiling at Devon, who grinned back. 

“You were in on this?” Eddie asked his son.

“Uh, yeah? This arcade has been closed to the public for a year, who do you think got into contact with the building’s owner and used the whole precocious child act to convince them to let us in just for this?” said Devon with a casual shrug. “I was raised by a businessman. I get things done.”

“And,” Richie continued, smiling and shaking his head, “I obviously needed to get here before you.”

“I still don’t understand… what exactly is going on?” asked Eddie, still very much confused.

“Well, for starters...” Richie replied, snapping his fingers in the direction of the long forgotten snack counter. The opening notes of  _ You Took The Words Right Out of My Mouth _ filled the arcade as two sheepish but excited looking faces popped up from behind the counter.

“Bill?” Eddie said incredulously, trying his best to process all of this as fast as it was happening. “Stan? What the fuck?”

“Hey, I’m here because Richie demanded it, since I was here thirty years ago,” replied Stan with a shrug, even though he was smiling. “And Bill is here because he’s the one with the Spotify account.”

“Actually it’s because you’re my best friend and obviously I wanted to be here for this,” corrected Bill, rolling his eyes and playfully jabbing Stan with his elbow. 

“Be here for what?” Eddie asked, looking from Bill to Stan in confusion that was rapidly shrinking by the second as he began to suspect exactly what was happening. “What’s going on…. OH MY GOD,” he shrieked as he turned back to Richie, only to discover that his suspicion was correct. The other man was now down on one knee in front of him, holding a  _ very _ small, velvet box.

“So, as everybody in this arcade knows, thirty years ago on this very spot, I came back from just taking an innocent leak in that filthy ass bathroom-“

“Wow, this is so romantic,” Eddie quipped, smiling through the tears that had begun to form in his eyes as his heart thumped in his chest. 

“-and what did I find?” Richie continued, unwavered. “I found some random kid standing there at my game, sucking so badly at it that it was physically paining me-“

“I love you too, asshole.”

“-but he was also really fucking cute, so you guys see my problem here? How do you tell a cute boy that he’s terrible at videogames? I mean, you  _ do _ , you do just straight up come out and tell him he’s bad at videogames. And maybe he gets a little mad at you and does that squinty eyed glare thing… yeah, exactly like you’re doing right now, Eds, just like that… but then, by some miracle or twist of fate or whatever, maybe he ends up hanging out with you for the rest of the day instead of telling you to go fuck yourself. And then maybe you take photos together and exchange addresses, and then, maybe you write letters to each other for the next decade, until one night you’re coming home from another lame night at a comedy club and he’s just.. he’s just standing there. On your porch. Freezing his gorgeous little ass off.”

Tears were really falling now. Eddie did absolutely nothing to stop them, just letting them cascade down his cheeks as he completely forgot that there were three people in the room other than himself and Richie. 

“Maybe he moves in with you and takes over your apartment and your life, but you don’t fucking mind, because he’s so cute even when he’s ranting about how filthy the place is, or the right way to wash dishes, or how to wash different kinds of laundry. Sometimes he ends up falling asleep in your bed with you, and you just stay up for half the night in awe of how peaceful and beautiful his face is, and knowing you’re falling in love but not knowing what to do with that information. Because you don’t even dare to hope that he might love you back.”

“Richie..” Eddie sobbed, one hand over his mouth.

“Maybe he leaves for a bit, and he meets someone else, and you cry like you’ve never cried before because it looks like you lost him forever. But then, maybe eventually, after a long time, you find your way back to each other. You’re both older, you’re both a little wiser, and now he has a son who’s just as cute and sarcastic and funny as his daddy, and you love them both so much that you will do anything for them. And you do. You do absolutely anything and everything for them, through good times and horrible times, because that’s what it means to love someone and to be a family. That’s your man, and that’s your son, and you don’t know why the fuck it took you so long to make it official, but here you stand, on your knees in front of him, pardon the pun, on the filthy arcade floor where you first met, hoping and praying that this will all go according to plan and he’ll say yes,” Richie finally finished, snapping the box open to reveal a simple, silver band with one tiny aquamarine and one topaz stone embedded in it. 

“So,” he added with a smile as tears fogged up his glasses, “I guess what I’m getting at is… Edward Kaspbrak, will you make me the happiest D-list celebrity on earth and marry me?”

Eddie didn’t think he’d ever cried so hard in his entire life as he was doing in that moment. He covered his face with both hands, his shoulders heaving as he struggled even to catch his breath in between sobs, let alone form words. 

“Looks like you broke him, Richie.”

“Shut the fuck up, Staniel!”

“Hey, don’t tell my husband to shut up, that’s my job.”

“Why don’t all of you shut up so Dad can answer the question?”

Eddie finally managed to get himself under control, wiping tears out of his eyes with his hands as he looked around the arcade, from the amused looking Stan to Bill, over to a widely grinning Devon, and then, finally, back to Richie, who was still on one knee, looking hopeful as he held the ring box out like an offering. 

“Well…. I suppose I can’t really say no after a speech like that, can I?” Eddie joked with a loud sniff. 

“Does that mean you’ll marry me, Eds?”

Eddie started crying again as he closed his eyes and nodded. “Of course I will, Rich. You never even had to ask.” The smile that formed on Richie’s face could have lit up a thousand Christmas trees as he scrambled back to his feet and clumsily fumbled with getting the ring out of the box. He handed the box over to Devon and gently slipped the ring onto Eddie’s finger, holding his hand inside both of his own for a moment. 

“You’re absolutely positive?” Richie asked.

Eddie snorted. “Shut up and kiss me, Tozier.” He pulled Richie in and locked their lips together, stars dancing behind his eyelids as the sound of applause, whoops, and hollers from their audience of three filled the room. “Of course,” he said in between affectionate pecks, “You do realize this means that now  _ I _ have to propose to  _ you _ when you’re least expecting it. You deserve to feel special too, and I can’t be the only one of us with an engagement ring.”

“Mmm, I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” Richie replied with a saucy raising of his eyebrows. 

“Watch your back,” Eddie teased, leaning in for another kiss. 

“Hey, is that the photo booth?” Devon piped up suddenly. Eddie finally stopped kissing Richie and turned in the direction his son was pointing, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized that it was, in fact, the very same photo booth that had produced the only photos he and Richie had with each other as children. 

“It is,” Richie said, slinging one arm around Eddie as the three of them wandered over to it. 

“You think it still works?” Devon asked curiously. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” replied Richie, digging into his pockets and retrieving some money, which he placed into the slot on the side of the booth before ushering all of them inside and closing the curtain. The booth wasn’t exactly made for three, but they made it work, positioning themselves so they could all be seen in frame as the camera loudly went off four times. 

_ Click.  _

_ Click.  _

_ Click.  _

Three brand new photos of the same boys, much older now, and more weathered, but still just as youthful in spirit as they’d been the last time they’d occupied that booth, this time joined by a third boy who embodied the best of both of them. 

_ Click.  _

One last photo, Eddie showing off his ring to the camera as Richie hugged him right and Devon smiled widely, a beautiful moment in time captured forever. 

The perfect family photo. 


	14. Epilogue: Grow Old With You

**RICHIE TOZIER’S PARTNER PROPOSED IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS STANDUP SHOW LAST NIGHT AND WE LITERALLY CANNOT DEAL**

Buzzfeed Entertainment 

March 31, 2018

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ I already proposed weeks ago, but my fiancé is competitive as fuck and refuses to be outdone.  _

03/31/18

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ Leave it to my fiancé to always have an idea for how to make my shows better. _

03/31/18

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ My fiancé read that last tweet over my shoulder; responded with “It don’t take much, babe.” _

03/31/18

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ I’d be offended, but, you know. He’s my fiancé. He’s allowed to insult me all he wants and I usually just thank him.  _

03/31/18

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ Am I overusing the word fiancé? If anyone can find a fuck for me to give, that’d be great.  _

03/31/18

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ Edward Kaspbrak is MY FIANCÉ and I will shout it from every rooftop in the world cause I. Don’t. Care. Fiancé fiancé fiancé soon to be husband. Fiancé.  _

03/31/18

*

**Richie Tozier**

**@shutuprichie**

_ My kid says I’m being embarrassing. I’ll stop now, for I actually care what he thinks. #SorryNoodle _

03/31/18

*

**August 2018**

Richie nervously adjusted his tie and gave himself yet another critical glance in the full-length mirror of the beach house’s spare bedroom as he tried to calm his jittery nerves. He’d been doing exactly the same thing in an endless cycle for the last forty-five minutes, but he hardly thought he could be blamed for it. It wasn’t every day that he was about to marry the love of his life, was it? 

“Are you  _ sure _ I look ok?” he asked, directing his question to Stan, his best man and designated emotional support, who had spent those same forty-five minutes on the floor with his back up against the bed, boredly scrolling through his phone.

“For the thousandth time, Richie, you look fine,” Stan assured him without even once glancing up from his phone screen.

“But do I look fine, or do I look  _ fine _ ?” Richie pressed, practically whining as he faced the mirror. He wondered how Eddie was faring down the hall in their actual bedroom; if  _ he _ was looking at himself in the mirror and second guessing if he was handsome enough for Richie on their wedding day, and begging Bill for validation. Probably not, he decided. Eddie probably  _ knew _ he looked like a billion dollars. 

“I want to be breathtaking, Staniel,” Richie said as he made eye contact with Stan in the mirror. “ _ Tell me I’m breathtaking! _ ”

Stan rolled his eyes, but whatever snarky comment he was going to make in reply was cut short by the sudden appearance of Devon, who had spent the better part of the morning running between the two bedrooms to deliver messages from one parent to another, a valiant part of his one-kid effort to keep them as far apart as possible until the actual wedding began. It was bad luck to see each other beforehand, he’d insisted, and if there was one thing their family needed less of, it was bad luck. Richie didn’t really believe this, of course, and he knew Eddie didn’t either, but if it made Devon happy, they were willing to play along. Particularly in light of what they planned to tell him before the ceremony. 

Besides, it couldn’t hurt to invite a little good luck into the day. You know, just in case. 

“I told Dad that you said you can’t wait to see him,” the boy announced breathlessly. “And he said he can’t wait either, and that he loves you, and also “where in the hell is his good hair gel,” his words, not mine.”

Richie smiled as Stan snorted down at his phone. “Tell him his gel is in the bathroom cabinet on the left. That’s my fault, I’m sorry, I had to move it last night to get at the shaving cream. And also tell him that I love him too, and that he better not run away from the altar.”

Devon nodded seriously and turned back out of the room, leaving Richie to make yet another nervous adjustment to his crisp, black suit. 

“Ok, why the fuck does this thing always look wrinkled?” he groaned. 

“Richie, really, it looks fine,” said Stan, standing up at last to come up behind him and join him in looking at his own reflection. “It’s not wrinkled, you’re just nervous. Which you really don’t need to be, by the way.”

Richie sighed. “I know. I  _ know _ , I just… I thought this day would never come, and I want everything to be perf-“

Devon suddenly reappeared in the doorway, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Dad says he’s “not going anywhere, you asshole,” again, his words, not mine, and also that if you want to get rid of him that easily, you’ll have to kill him.”

Richie chuckled, suddenly feeling a lot less nervous than he had a few seconds ago. “Tell Dad to watch that smart mouth, because I could have had Ricky Martin back in the late 90s, and I bet  _ he _ would never have called me names on our wedding day,” he said, full of exuberance that only a good, old fashioned, loving verbal sparring with Eddie could give him. Devon left to deliver this message and Richie turned his attention back to Stan in the mirror.

“Feel better, Trashmouth?” Stan asked with a smile. 

Richie nodded. “He’s really mine, huh?”

“I can almost guarantee that even if you showed up wearing a garbage bag tied with a ribbon, he’d still marry you,” Stan assured him with a pat on the shoulder. “He’d probably kill you, several times even, but he’d still marry you in the end.”

“You’re positive about that?”

Devon made yet another appearance in the doorway, his fingers brushing through his own hair awkwardly. “Um, Dad said you’re more than welcome to “go fuck off with Ricky Martin and see how that goes,”  _ again,  _ his words and  _ not _ mine, but that he knows you won’t because he knows that  _ you _ know that he’s “the best damn thing that ever happened to you” and that you’re stuck with him now.”

“That answer your question?” Stan said smugly as Devon was joined in the doorway by Eddie and Bill. Richie’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Eddie, looking almost illegally handsome in his suit, his hair coiffed just so and his brown eyes sparkling with happiness. 

“Daaaaaad!” Devon protested as he turned around and saw him. “It’s bad luck, get back in your room!”

“Sorry, Bunny, but I couldn’t go another minute without seeing your gorgeous dad,” Eddie told him, fully stepping into the room and crossing over to the mirror. He wrapped his arms around Richie from behind and placed a soft kiss to the side of his face. “You got a license for that outfit, Mr. Ricky Martin?” he asked cheekily. 

“No, but you definitely need a permit for yours,” Richie retorted happily, bringing his hands up to grasp at Eddie’s as they locked eyes in the mirror. 

“I think this is our cue to bounce,” said Stan, placing his hands on Bill’s shoulders and beginning to usher him out of the room. “We’ll see you lovebirds on the beach in fifteen minutes, don’t be late.”

“And if anything goes wrong, do  _ not _ say I didn’t warn you,” Devon added dramatically as he began to join his uncles in leaving the room. “I tried my best.”

“Oh, not so fast, my little drama bunny,” Eddie said, reaching one arm out to draw Devon back in. “You stay here with us, we want to talk to you about something.” Stan and Bill hastily exited and closed the door behind them, leaving their little family of three alone together. Devon frowned suspiciously as he watched Eddie and Richie exchange a knowing look. 

“Am I in trouble?” he asked nervously. 

Eddie laughed. “No, we just.. come sit down on the bed, we have something we want to talk to you about.” The three of them headed over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, with Devon between them as the boy looked anxiously from one of them to the other. 

“It’s not the sex talk again, is it?” he asked jokingly. 

Richie laughed heartily as Eddie winced. “No, thank the good lord that’s  _ not _ what this is about,” Eddie replied. “I think we’re all sufficiently traumatized enough from that first talk.”

“Hey, you  _ said _ it was ok to ask questions if I had any, and I had a  _ lot _ ,” Devon pointed out. 

“You sure did,” said Eddie, patting him lovingly on the shoulder. “But, like I said, that’s not what we want to talk about.”

“What your dad is trying to say,” Richie interrupted, figuring that he should probably be the one to get the conversation rolling before they were late to their own wedding, “Well… um…”

“We have something to tell you,” Eddie finished. 

“Something important,” Richie added. 

Devon looked between them with hesitant interest. “Is one of you pregnant?” he asked, causing Richie to snort as Eddie placed his head in his hands. “I’m kidding, obviously, but like… is that it? A baby? Are you adopting another kid?”

Richie exchanged a glance with Eddie, who used his eyes to encourage him to do the rest of the talking. “Well, actually…” Richie began, with a clearing of his throat. 

“Oh my  _ god _ !” Devon exclaimed. “You really  _ are _ adopting a kid?? Wait, I don’t have to help change diapers or anything, do I?”

“As it happens, we… we  _ did _ just finalize the adoption of a child,” Richie answered him as Eddie looked on, amused. “There’s no diapers involved, though.”

Devon frowned. “So it’s an older kid?”

Richie held in a smile as he carefully reached into the inside pocket of his suit and retrieved a nicely folded up piece of paper, which he timidly handed over to him. “Here, maybe it’s better if you read this yourself,” he said. He and Eddie both leaned closer, one of their hands on either of the boy’s shoulders as they watched him unfold the paper and read it, his dark eyes scanning over the contents curiously before widening in realization.

“Wait…” said Devon, looking from the paper over to Richie, then to Eddie, and then back down again as he blinked and reread it. “This.. that’s my name….” He looked back over to Richie, his face suddenly full of barely repressed emotion. “Is this for real?” he asked in a whisper. 

Richie nodded. “It’s been final for a while, but we wanted to wait until today to tell you.”

“Because today is all about making our family legally official,” Eddie added softly as he gently rubbed Devon’s shoulder. “And, well..”

“And your dad and I getting married is only half of that puzzle,” Richie said as Devon looked back down at the paper with a quivering lip. “The other half is you. ‘Cause, listen, Mac, when I was younger I  _ never _ thought, in a million years, that I would ever have a kid. Alright? But from the first day your dad introduced me to you, I knew for sure that I loved you. And that I would do  _ anything _ to protect you. We may not have had the easiest start, because you were unexpected and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, but regardless, you  _ instantly _ became my son. And I would rather die than have it any other way, Noodle. So this… this is just a piece of paper that confirms what we already know.”

“Just like your dad’s and my marriage license,” Eddie interjected. 

Devon was quiet for a moment, one hand reaching up to absently pick at his lip as he read and reread the copy of his adoption certificate. He finally looked up, fixing Richie with wide, tearful brown eyes that instantly melted Richie’s heart into a puddle. 

“So you’re… you’re  _ legally _ my dad….” he murmured, his tiny face scrunching up in preparation to cry. 

“Yep, I now have the legal authority to ship you off to military school,” Richie joked, relishing the little choked laugh that came from his son before the boy wrapped his arms around him, the paper fluttering onto his lap. “I’m just kidding,” he added as he kissed the top of Devon’s hair. “I love you too much to do that.”

“We thought that maybe, when Richie and I come back from our honeymoon, we all could go on a little family vacation,” said Eddie, catching both of them in his own arms and hugging them tight. “Maybe Disney World?”

“ _ OH MY GOD, YES!”  _ Devon squealed loudly, turning to squeeze Eddie instead, who gave Richie a smug smile over the boy’s head. “And just like that, I’m the favorite parent,” he teased. 

“Not as much as I’ll be if I can manage to play the celebrity card to skip some lines,” Richie retorted good-naturedly. 

“Show off.”

“Jealous?”

“Ok, ok, you know I love you both equally, now stop arguing and get ahold of yourselves,” Devon ordered them, standing up from the bed to look at them sternly as he sniffed and wiped his eyes. “Your wedding starts in exactly seven minutes, and I have very important ring-related duties to attend to, so I’m going to leave this room, and I expect to see both of you marching down that aisle right on time, got it?”

Richie looked over at Eddie in mock fear. “Ooooh, Eds, I think we’re in trouble,” he said with a hand over his mouth. 

“We’d better do what he says before we make it worse for ourselves,” Eddie added dramatically. 

Devon smiled and rolled his eyes. “Be on the beach in six minutes, you guys,” he said as he made his way out of the room, making sure to carefully refold his certificate into his pocket as he went. Richie watched him go and then turned his gaze over to Eddie, who was looking back at him with a most adoring smile that lit up his entire face like a sky full of stars. 

“Ready to be tied to me forever?” Eddie asked teasingly. 

“Sounds kinky, let’s do it,” Richie replied, kissing him before grabbing his hand and leading him out of the room with a joyful laugh.

*

If anyone asked Eddie later to recall the details of his wedding day, he wasn’t sure if he could remember  _ everything  _ just as it was. Sure, he could tell you that it was on their family's traditional vacation beach, the sun shining brightly and the salty breeze blowing gently through everyone’s hair as a freshly ordained Beverly officiated the ceremony. He could tell you that Stan and Bill, their best men, stood on either side of them, and that Devon stood proudly beside Bill, carefully holding a small pillow containing their rings. He could vaguely recall that the rest of their friends were watching from their white painted folding chairs in the sand, that baby Lucy was quietly babbling to herself on Ben’s lap, that Richie’s mother was practically sobbing with happiness into a handkerchief as her husband looked on with pride. He might be able to tell you bits and pieces about all of that, sure. 

But what he would  _ never _ forget, what he would remember every single detail of for the rest of his life, was the overwhelming emotion he felt flooding through him as he stood at the altar next to Richie, who was looking at him as though he were the earth, the moon, and the stars all wrapped up in one package. The way the sunlight reflected off of Richie’s suit, the way his dark blue eyes sparkled with an elation he’d never seen in him before, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He’d never forget the awe on Richie’s face as they forgot everyone else was present and focused only on each other; on the unparalleled promise of the new chapter of their lives they were about to embark on. 

Most of all, he’d never forget just how hopelessly in love he was. 

“And now that I’ve gotten all the boring stuff out of the way, Eddie and Richie will now take this moment to recite the vows they’ve prepared,” stated Bev, gesturing grandly to Eddie and handing him her microphone before clasping her hands solemnly in front of her. 

“Richie,” Eddie began with a happy sigh, taking one of the rings from Devon’s pillow and slipping it onto Richie’s finger with care. “Sometimes I lay awake at night and think about how different my life might be right now if I’d never met you, and how that was just  _ one  _ decision away from being a reality. If I hadn’t gone on that vacation as a kid, if I’d never gone into town that day, if I’d never decided to go into that dumb arcade…. I might have missed out on meeting the single most important person in my life. And I can guarantee that my life would  _ not _ be the same. I’d have never seen your face, never seen your smile, never have heard you giggle at one of your own jokes before you even tell it because you’re so sure it’s going to make me laugh, which it always does. I would have never known what it felt like to hold your hand, or kiss you, or even to just lean into your chest while you hold me safe in your arms.” 

He reached his hand up to swipe at the tears that were forming in his eyes, determined to finish his vows before he completely broke down, although, judging from the look on Richie’s face and the way his glasses were fogging up, his soon to be husband wasn’t going to have quite the same luck. 

“And I’m positive that in this alternate reality where I never met you, I would still know in my heart that something was missing,” he continued steadfastly. “Because Richie, as cliche as it sounds, you are my soulmate. You’re the other half of my being, and no matter what lifetime or reality we’re in, I know that we would always somehow find each other, because we belong together. It was fate that brought you to me that day, and I’m going to live every day of my life being grateful for that. So grateful, Richie. Because without you, I’m not sure I could have survived many of the hard times I’ve been through. You make even the darkest day brighter, and I love you… I… I love you so much…” he trailed off, unable to stop the floodgates from letting loose anymore. He handed the mic to Richie and let himself sob for a moment before frantically pulling himself back together in the interest of not completely freaking out all of their guests.

“Care to try topping that?” Bev quipped to Richie, and Eddie smiled awkwardly through his tears as all of their nearest and dearest burst into lighthearted laughter. 

“Well, first of all, I’m going to let that golden joke opportunity slide right by, for the sake of the children,” Richie said quietly out of range of the mic, giving Eddie a cheeky wink that made Eddie burst out into a genuine belly laugh. Richie grinned and cleared his throat, adjusting the mic in his hand as he gazed adoringly at him. 

“Eds, I know this is the moment where I’m supposed to make a grand, sweeping speech about how much I love you, and how you’re my everything and I don’t know how I could possibly survive living in a world without you in it. Which was almost a reality for me, and I  _ never _ want to face that possibility again. But, I didn’t think I could come up with the words on my own that accurately convey the depth of my feelings for you, so I decided to take a little inspiration from one of the world’s greatest poets. By which I mean I’m going to straight up quote them.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow in interest as he stood up straighter and waited with anticipation. Richie winked at him once more and took a deep breath before beginning to speak again. 

“To quote this wise philosopher… I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad,” Richie said, closing his eyes briefly to punctuate the emotion of his words. “Carry you around when your arthritis is bad. All I wanna do is grow old with you.”

Giggles began erupting from their small audience as everyone began to put the pieces together. Stan rolled his eyes and Bill barely succeeded in holding back his laughter as Richie continued. 

“I’ll get you medicine when your tummy aches. Build you a fire if the furnace breaks. Oh, it could be so nice growing old with you.”

Eddie didn’t know whether to kiss him or strangle him, but he held back a fresh wave of tears and listened as the other man kept speaking, memories flowing through his mind of the many times they’d watched those very same words performed on their television screen together as they cuddled on the couch.

“So, Eds, let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, even though you always insist I do it wrong. Let me put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink, which you shouldn’t be doing anymore in your condition. ‘Cause, Spaghetti, I  _ am _ gonna be the man who grows old with you.” Richie emphasized that last sentence by slipping a ring onto Eddie’s waiting finger and grasping his hand gently as he shoved the mic back at Bev, never taking his eyes off of Eddie for a second.

“Did you seriously just quote Adam Fucking Sandler at our wedding?” Eddie playfully admonished him.

“Adam Sandler is a national treasure,” replied Richie. “And please, you love  _ The Wedding Singer.” _

Eddie narrowed his eyes at him, but he couldn’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile as it hit him once more just how in love he was with this absolutely ridiculous man. “Bev, please finish this so I can kiss this fool,” he said, squeezing Richie’s hand and shaking his head. 

“Well then,” said Bev after everyone had had a moment to laugh, wipe away their tears, and regain their focus. “I guess that settles that. So by the power vested in me by the piece of paper I printed off the internet in my home office the night before we left town, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mr. Tozier. Please kiss each other before the tension kills us all.”

Whoops, hollers and thunderous applause sounded from the folding chairs as Eddie practically pounced on Richie, taking his face in both hands and crashing their lips together as passionately as he dared, considering that his in-laws and all of their closest friends were watching. He only half cared about that, though. For a brief moment, there was no one else in the world except himself and his husband. 

Whoa. 

_ Husband.  _

He barely registered the details of their reception later. Little individual moments stuck in his mind, obviously. The gifts, the congratulations from their guests, the heartfelt speeches from Stan and Bill, Devon sweetly listening as Lucy proudly showed him her Barbie doll and even patiently helping her style the doll’s hair. Cutting the cake. Popping the champagne. Almost everything else was a blur to him, but he absorbed every last moment of his first dance with Richie, leaning his head softly against his husband’s shoulder as Elvis Presley’s  _ Can’t Help Falling In Love _ filled the reception hall. 

“What’s going on in that gorgeous little head, Mr. Tozier?” Richie asked him, placing a tender kiss to the top of his head as they swayed in time to the music. 

Eddie looked up at him and smiled. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how, no matter what happens in life, I’m always going to remember this moment,” Eddie answered him as he looked up into his eyes. “How in this moment we’re here, we’re in love, we’re a family, and we’ve never been as happy as we are right now.”

“That’s my sappy Spaghetti,” said Richie with a happy grin as he held him closer. They held onto each other until the song ended and a faster one came on, bringing most of their guests out onto the dance floor as everyone joined in on their joyous celebration. 

“Hey, Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“You mean, how fast can we get out of here?”

“I knew there was a reason I married you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, let me just say that this fic has been a journey that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed from start to finish, and that I never would have had the motivation to finish it were it not for all of you, especially those of you who always took the time to leave me comments and feedback about how much you liked it. So, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU for sticking with me, and I sincerely hope that you’ll all continue to follow my next Reddie fics and like them just as much. I love you all! <3


End file.
